


Reid My Mind

by yourcroft



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, everyone ships it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 40,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23215927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourcroft/pseuds/yourcroft
Summary: Maya Davis is a new member of the BAU, who just might be falling for one very smart, very cute triple Ph.D. profiler. Does he have feelings for her as well?Fluff, angst, smut, everything your Spencer-Reid-loving heart desires. Enjoy!
Relationships: Matthew Gray Gubler/Original Female Character(s), Matthew Gray Gubler/Reader, Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 56
Kudos: 183





	1. O Positive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first day on the job for Maya Davis. Time to meet the team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Each chapter begins with the title of a song that inspired me to write it! Obviously, you don’t have to listen to it, but I thought it’d be fun to add. Enjoy!

corduroy dreams - rex orange county

"Here's the team. Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, David Rossi, Emily Prentiss." JJ pointed to each agent in turn, all of which greeted me warmly and offered me their hands. I accepted, trying to breathe as I shook their hands. I hadn't slept in over 20 hours, having taken the first flight out to D.C. from my home in California and caught a ride into the office as soon as I got the call. The feeling in my chest when JJ offered me a job at the BAU was indescribable. I was fresh out of college. Moreover, five years ago the only occupation I could realistically entertain was petty thief or drug addict.  
"Maya will be following along through the first couple cases to learn the ropes," JJ explained.  
"Great to have you here," Hotchner said with a curt nod.  
"Thank you so much, sir," I replied.  
"Please, call me Hotch." I smiled. Hotch walked away to return to the endless stacks of files and paperwork on his desk.  
"Where's Boy Wonder?" Morgan asked.  
"I'm here," came a voice from a few feet behind me. I turned on my heels to see a lanky man with wild hair carrying several cups of coffee awkwardly. I reached out, took one out of the crook of his elbow, and passed it to Prentiss, who accepted gratefully.  
"Thanks," the man said, and handed out the rest of the coffee cups. I was surprised to see there was one for me.  
"You're Dr. Maya Davis, right? I'm Dr. Spencer Reid. I've read some of your work. Your Harvard thesis on the connection between native language and expression of abnormal pathologies. It was incredibly fascinating." I tried not to blush, surprised anyone would go to the trouble of reading my old papers.  
"Thank you."  
"It's true. He wouldn't shut up about it," Prentiss replied.  
"That's high praise," Morgan confided, "Pretty Boy over here is a real live genius. Graduated high school at twelve and all that." I quirked an eyebrow at Reid and he smiled sheepishly.  
"Well, Maya might give Reid a run for his money," JJ said, "She's got a PhD in Cognitive Psychology, Sociology, and Literature. Two from Harvard, two from Stanford. And she's multilingual." I waived a hand dismissively.  
"That's nothing. It's all on paper. I've heard so many stories about what you guys do here. It's amazing."  
"You'll be a part of it soon," Rossi promised.  
"Let's head up to the conference room. I'm about to present our newest case," JJ said. 

JJ described the murder of three women in a town in Nevada. They were all brunette, with long hair, and high power jobs. Likely a sexual sadist. I nursed my coffee as I watched the BAU mull over the facts of the case.  
"See you on the runway. Wheels up in thirty," Hotchner said when the team had finished their discussion.  
"You can come with me," Reid said.  
"Thanks," I responded, "I don't know where anything is yet." I threw my empty coffee in a trash can from a few feet away.  
"Nice," Morgan said as he passed behind me on his way out of the conference room. I smiled. Everyone here was so nice. Hotchner was a little intense, and Rossi's years of experience were pretty intimidating, but everyone was so welcoming.

"Who knew I'd fly all the way across the U.S. just to fly right back," I laughed as I found a seat on the fanciest plane I'd ever been on. Reid sat beside me.  
"Oh, are you from Nevada?" Reid asked.  
"California. You?"  
"Nevada," he said, a little bitter-sweetly.  
"I'm surprised you didn't know where she's from. Haven't you researched her blood type yet?" Prentiss joked from across the aisle.  
"I'm not a stalker," Reid said defensively.  
"I'm O positive," I interjected, "For future reference."  
"That's the most common blood type, right? I'm—" Prentiss started.  
"A positive," Reid interrupted. Emily smirked.  
"Supposedly type A positive people are cooperative, smart and passionate perfectionists. They find it important to get along with others and tend to bottle up their feelings."  
"Ouch," Prentiss said, "A little on the nose."  
"Supposedly also the most attractive to mosquitos," I added.  
"Is that true?" Prentiss asked no one in particular. Reid nodded thoughtfully.  
"That's why I'm always getting stung," Prentiss muttered.  
"So where exactly did you grow up?" I asked.  
"Las Vegas. You?"  
"San Francisco. Did you like it?"  
"The weather is nice," he replied, suddenly distant. I decided not to push it. Instead, I curled up in my seat and took a nap.

God they were good. I followed Prentiss as she interviewed the latest victim's husband. In five minutes she figured out the connection between the victims and knocked the husband off the suspect list.  
"This should be a quick case," Prentiss commented as we left the house. My phone rang with a call from an unknown number. I picked up.  
"Hey! New girl, Maya, right?" said a cheery female voice.  
"Sorry, who is this?"  
"The finder and fixer of all things interwebby. Is Emily there?" I put her on speaker.  
"Garcia?" Prentiss asked before she heard anything.  
"Garcia?" I echoed quietly, "The tech analyist?"  
"Tech girl? I am the tech queen," the voice from my phone corrected.  
"What have you got?" Prentiss asked.  
"The residue found on the victims was oil."  
"Motor oil?" I could hear the clacking of computer keys.  
"Olive oil."  
"The catering service. All of the victims worked for different companies, but the companies used the same catering service," I said.  
"I just sent you a list of employees from the catering service," Garcia asserted.  
"You're a godsend," Emily said.  
"I know. Nice to meet you Maya!" The call ended abruptly.

"Not all cases are that straightforward," Hotch told me on the plane back to D.C.  
"I know, sir," I said.  
"But you did an excellent job. You're living up to JJ's high praise."  
"Thank you, sir, It's a privilege to be here."  
"Let me know if you need anything. There is one thing, though." My heart stopped.  
"Yes, sir?"  
"I thought I told you to stop with the 'sir'."  
"Yes, s— Sorry," I said. One side of his mouth tugged upward, almost half a smile. I had a feeling that was a lot coming from him, stoic as a statue.  
"Don't worry about it." He stood up and went to talk to Rossi. 

"How was your first case?" Reid asked as he slid into the seat Hotch had vacated. We were twenty minutes from touchdown.  
"Pretty good. Everyone here is so nice," I said. He nodded.  
"Can I ask you a question?" His hair always had a slightly windswept quality, a sense of movement. It suited him; he was never still, always pacing or, more often racking his brains for the solution that he always produced some enough.  
"Sure," I said.  
"How'd you get referred to the BAU? JJ mentioned Gideon had put in a word when he was still working here." He was trying to seem nonchalant, I could tell, but clearly he needed to know the answer. I wondered how long he had been waiting to ask me. Maybe that's why everyone was being nice to me.  
"Oh." I paused.  
"You don't have to tell me, obviously. I'm just curious." He tucked his hair behind an ear.  
"No, it's fine. I, uh, I pickpocketed him." Reid's head cocked to the side.  
"I was younger and he was in town for some lecture. I passed him on the street and stole his watch. I thought I had gotten away with it, but he yelled after me. I would have run, except he told me I forgot something." I could still remember the encounter, but memory made it hazy, more like a dream, or a story someone else had told me.  
"When I came back, he profiled me, told me my life story. It made me angry. So I profiled him back. I must have got a decent amount right because he laughed and gave me a BAU card, told me when I needed a job to call and tell them I had Gideon's support behind me." Reid blinked slowly as if pulling himself out of the haze of my recollection. Then he sat a little straighter and swallowed.  
"You worked with him, didn't you?" I prodded gently.  
"Yeah, yeah. We were, um, we played chess together." It was a bit of a cop-out, but for the second time, I got the feeling I shouldn't pry too far too fast into the life of Spencer Reid. Everyone in the BAU seemed to have a past littered with tragedy and pain, all buried.  
"No one else knows that Gideon recommended you, by the way. But I don't think they'd be surprised," Reid added after a pause. That one subtle reassurance, that veiled compliment. I'd hold on to that for years, especially once I realized it's gravity. Then, I just smiled.  
"You play chess?"  
"Yes. Do you?"  
"No, no, I'm horrible at board games."  
"I can teach you if you want. There are several schools of thought regarding chess game theory, but essentially they boil down to a few simple concepts—" I cut him off.  
"I'd like that."


	2. Chess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First case. Can Maya prove her worth?

la thune - angèle

"Wrong."  
"What?"  
"If you move the queen like that I win in three moves," Spencer commented matter-of-factory.  
"Ugh." I groaned dramatically put my head on the table in front of me. The BAU's private jet had taken off an hour before and was currently soaring over Ohio. Soon we'd be in Maine, investigating the case of 11 missing persons.  
"You're not even trying." His tone wasn't scolding, it was more entertained.  
"Yes, I am!" I protested, lifting my head. Ok, maybe I had been distracted the last turn. I was worried about the case.  
"Worried about the case?" Reíd asked casually. Damn, that kid was good. I gave up the ruse.  
"Hotch is making take point on interviewing the Zhangs," I confessed. Those were the parents of the latest victim. I twirled a piece of hair absently around my finger.  
"You'll do great," Reid assured.  
"I don't know.. You guys always know the right thing to say. What if I offend them or ask the wrong questions and that's why we can't find the unsub? You know?" I couldn't quite make eye contact with him, embarrassed. Instead, I let the lock of hair fall and pushed it behind my ear.  
"Morgan will be with you. He'll help you if you get stuck," Reid promised. I nodded. Behind us, Emily shifted positions in her sleep.  
"Ok," I said, grabbing my queen and sliding her back to her previous position, "What about..."  
I moved it the opposite direction, then back immediately, seeing that that too was a mistake. Reid's face caught a small smile and he placed his hand over mine. Wordlessly, he slid the queen over to the side, capturing one knight and setting me up to capture another. I groaned.  
"How did I not see that?" His hand was warm and soft.  
"It takes practice."  
"Says you, 'Boy Wonder'," I challenged, "You probably exited the womb knowing how to defeat the old master."  
"Not you too."  
"What?"  
"'Boy Wonder,'" Reid said with a hint of distaste. I smirked.  
"If the shoe fits, Reid." He tried to look annoyed, but his eyes sparkled with amusement.  
"Don't worry, I think I'll leave the nicknames to Morgan. It's your turn."

"Do you think the father was a little cold?" I asked Morgan as we walked out of the Zhangs' mansion.  
"His son just went missing," Morgan replied.  
"Not to us. About his son."  
"Maybe. He was a prostitute. They were likely estranged."  
"But the mother said he lived nearby. I think the father and son both knew this was coming." Morgan considered me.  
"That would explain why he donated all his possessions before he disappeared. He might have been getting threats." We made our way into a police car.  
"Back to the station, please," Morgan said to the driver.  
Then to me: "We need to tell Hotch."

When we were a few minutes from the station my phone vibrated with a call. It was an unfamiliar number.  
"We've got another body," Reid said when I picked up.  
"What?" I said, slightly dazed.  
"Another low-risk victim. Prostitute." Wow. The BAU didn't waste time with salutations.  
"Ok. Um, where?"  
"Behind the movie theater." I repeated the information to Morgan.  
"Tell him we're on our way. And about your theory about the father." I did so, glowing with pride that Morgan referred to it as my theory, and even more so when Reid said it made sense. 

"How we find this guy? None of the prostitutes we interviewed knew anything about him," Prentiss asked in the police station conference room.  
"Though they were all very interested in Reid," Hotch said. I turned to Reid, who glanced at me, bright red.  
"Everywhere we go, someone wants a piece of Junior G Man," Morgan mused. Emily and JJ laughed.  
"Should we send someone out there? Undercover?" JJ asked. Her phone was buzzing, as always, but she ignored it.  
"I could do it," Emily offered.  
"Or Maya," Rossi said.  
"No," Reíd said quickly, "It's too dangerous and unlikely to work. This city has over a hundred prostitutes. It's far more likely that the unsub would kill find another victim."  
"Reid is right," Hotch said, "We need to talk to Mr. Zhang again. I want to know why he didn't do anything to help his son."

I was half asleep in my chair when Reid tapped me on the shoulder and handed me my jacket.  
"He confessed," he supplied before I could ask how it went.  
"Just like that?"  
"We found the victim's missing belonging in his garage. Apparently his mother had been a prostitute before she abandoned him in foster care. His son turning to the same profession was the stressor." I nodded, bleary-eyed and tugged on my jacket.  
"When take off?"  
"Two hours."  
"I'm starving."  
"Should we get some food?"  
"Please."  
"Order in?"  
"Yeah. I've got to take down all this," I replied, gesturing broadly at the evidence boards, whose cork pores were filled with thumbtacks holding up pictures, maps, and statements.  
"I'll help." I was too tired to argue.  
"Thai food?" he asked. My mouth watered at the thought.  
"Sure. Get me whatever you're getting." He nodded. I stood up and begun cleaning up, filing away important papers and throwing away the rest.  
"I didn't mean to startle you earlier," Reid said after a moment in which the only sound was the rustling of papers. I raised my head.  
"JJ gave me your number," he continued.  
"Ah," I said ambiguously. There was a pause that was almost awkward, so I decided to fill the silence.  
"Did you actually get propositioned?" I asked. He bit his lip. We were almost done with the first board.  
"Yeah. Morgan was right; it seems to happen a lot," he revealed. I laughed. Then he went on to tell me about a case about homeless people disappearing from the streets of Kansas City. I couldn't stop laughing when he described how a prostitute had brushed past Hotchner just to hit on him.  
"It was horrible," he insisted.  
"Sounds hilarious," I countered. By then the boxes were packed. I was sitting on the table, watching Reid tell his story. He was adorable when he blushed.  
"Morgan thought so. He wouldn't let me live it down for weeks." Reid's phone vibrated.  
"Food's here." I praised God. I hadn't eaten since 11:00 am. Something about catching bad guys really made me hungry.  
"How much do I owe you?" I asked when he handed me my take-out box.  
"Don't worry about it," he reassured me and pried the plastic lid off.  
"You sure?"  
"Thai food is cheap. Plus, we're in Maine. The cost of living is low here." I rolled my eyes.  
"Thanks. Now tell me how the case ended."


	3. Rereading (fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you can't help falling asleep.

you might be sleeping - jakob ogawa (ft. claire) 

"No amount of coffee is going to keep me awake," I told JJ on the flight home.  
"Just give up," she instructed, "It's a job well done. You deserve some rest."  
"It's two o'clock in the afternoon," I said, but I was already drowsy. She smiled at me and told me to sleep tight.  
"Thanks, Mom, but I'm going to try and stay awake so I can actually sleep tonight." I walked over to the bench where Reid was sitting, reading.  
"Scooch?" He looked up.  
"Sure," he replied and shifted over. I sat down and smoothed down my grey plaid pants, adjusted my white sweater. Immediately, I was bored, but I tried to get some work done, check my messages. I was far too sleepy.  
"You okay? You look like you're about to pass out," Reid commented. I laughed.  
"Just tired. Whatcha reading?" I asked and looked over his shoulder. Big mistake. My vision began to swirl as I looked at the page of endless letters. I couldn't read a single word.  
"Ivan Turgenev's First Love in its original Russian. I'm rereading," he said. Russian. That's probably why I could make out anything.  
"What's is about?" I scooted closer.  
"It's a love story. Two people who shouldn't be together." I leaned back and rested my head against the seat. My eyes fluttered close.  
"Will you tell me the story?" I couldn't see his, but I swear I felt his soft smile, the face he made when he played with kids.  
"Sure. So there's this girl. She's twenty one, like you, actually, but she's much more mean." He began to tell me the story and I tried to hold on, but soon I was drifting, drifting off to sleep, my head on Reid's shoulder.

"You me to deal you in?" Morgan asked Reid about ten minutes later. He shuffled a deck of cards neatly.  
"I'm good, thanks."  
"She really out," Morgan chuckled when he looked back at Reid, who sat motionless with his book open in his lap.  
"Like a light," Reid agreed quietly.  
"You okay there?"  
"I'm good. I've got my book." One corner of his mouth tugged up into a half-smile. Morgan just shook his head in smirked.  
"Pretty Boy, always getting the girl," Morgan joked so only Reid could hear. Reid flushed.  
"She's just tired."  
"I know. She ran up like 10 flights of stairs to get that unsub." Reid nodded.  
"Don't worry, you can lose all your money to me next time," Morgan promised.  
"Not a chance," Reid said resolutely.


	4. Walter (fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Prentiss and JJ catch Maya waiting for texts from a special someone, they can't help but give her a hard time.

weak - wet 

By my fourth week in the BAU, Reid texted me often. Usually for work, to send me an address, communicate Hotch's instructions, or relay a new theory. Sometimes he'd send a one-word text: "coffee?" The answer was inevitably "please." A couple of times he'd sent me a link to an article that was related to my work or that he thought I'd find interesting. One time he asked me what kind of music I listen to. On average, I'd get a couple of texts from him. Like I said, mostly business.  
And I'd text him back. The masters from Garcia. Ideas I wanted to run by him before I asked Hotch. I never sent any articles, though. I was afraid that they wouldn't be up to his standard. Not that he would judge me, Reid was too nice, but my pride was too intense. I sent him some songs when he asked, and a couple that reminded me of him later. Innocuous.

One morning Prentiss, Rossi, and I were hanging out downstairs, waiting for JJ to present the newest case.  
"How much Italian do you know?" I asked Emily, who had just mentioned living in Rome as a child.  
"A decent amount. It's not perfect, but it's still there." She was dressed in a grey button-down and slacks. In my own dark blue sweater and black jeans, I felt slightly underdressed until I saw another agent walk by in blue jeans.  
"That's awesome. I've also loved Italian," I said. My phone buzzed. Reid's name appeared on the screen, above a familiar message.

Reid: Coffee?  
Me: You know the answer  
Reid: On my way

"Why are you smiling at your phone?" Emily asked suddenly. She searched my face. Ugh, profilers.  
"Just a text," I said nonchalantly. She raised an eyebrow. I didn't want to say anything, especially not with Rossi here. He was amazing, but it was a little gossiping in front of your father.  
"Oh really? From who?" she pressed. She had the slight air of a teenager who'd stumbled upon an excellent secret.  
"From whom," Reid corrected, walking up behind her. He had two coffee cups in his hands.  
"Where's my coffee?" Rossi question with mock-indignation.  
"You should have laughed at my Dadaism joke," Reid said. He handed me a cup. I chuckled, remembering the joke. It really wasn't that funny, but the way Reid told it was highly entertaining. He was so excited it was like watching a puppy. Emily was still looking at me, trying to find clues in my face.  
"JJ will be ready soon. We should head up," I proposed. We made our way to the conference room.

"Why do I feel like I'm going to end up spending years of time on the plane?" I said into the air of the BAU jetliner.  
"Because you are," Morgan answered, "It's a shame unsubs can't all live in a twenty-minute drive from D.C." I slumped in my seat. Flying is boring after a while, even in a fancy plane.  
"Every serial killer in the same town? That sounds like a great recipe for disaster," JJ said.  
"At least they would having a higher chance of killing a murder instead of an innocent victim," Rossi pointed out from behind his book.  
My phone vibrated in my pocket and I perked up.  
"What? Did you get another text?" Emily asked quietly from across from me.  
I glanced at my phone and saw that an old friend had texted me. I cocked my head to the side.  
"Yeah..." I trailed off. Why was someone from college texting me?  
"Someone different," Emily noted, "Who was the first person?"  
"Nobody," I muttered as I read the message.

Max: Hey, I'm in D.C. for a couple of weeks. Let me know if you want to meet up 

"Why won't you tell me?"  
"Why are you so invested?" I knew if my tone was anything but teasing she would have let it drop, but I was leading her on, just a little.  
"You get excited when you get a text, smile at your phone, act secretive," Emily laid out. JJ, who sat next to her on the other side of the table raised an eyebrow.  
"Ooh," JJ said, "Do you have a secret boyfriend?"  
"What? No! You're getting that from the fact that I reached for my phone when I got a text?"  
"You reach with someone in mind, and that someone makes you smile every time. That's adorable, and if you don't tell me who it is I'll kick your ass," Emily threatened calmly. I was suddenly very aware that we were less than ten feet from Reid.  
"Every time? That was once," I said and started typing my response to Max. 

Me: Sure! I'll tell you know when I get back

"No, this has been going on for a least a few weeks. Cmon Maya, you never tell me any gossip," Emily pouted.  
"Didn't think you were the type to gossip," I said, tucking away my phone.  
"I'm not, but the plane ride gets more boring every time." She gestured at the window, outside of which could be seen a fluffy layer of clouds.  
"You don't have to tell us if it's private," JJ intervened. Then, much to my chagrin, she added "Unless it's a cute guy. Then you are legally required to tell us." I rolled my eyes.  
"It's just a friend," I said finally.  
"This morning or just now?" Emily asked.  
"Both."  
"Likely story." As if on cue, my phone buzzed. Audibly.  
"Oh my god," JJ laughed. Emily just gave me a pointed look. My stupid human body betrayed me to myself. My heart was beating faster. What was that about? It was just Max responding, I told myself. I didn't need to check it.  
"Oh come on," JJ said after a beat, "You obviously want to see what is was." I looked at her, then at Emily. Then I gave up.

Max: Looking forward to it

See, just Max. But why did I want it to be Reid? It was probably cause he always sent me something I wanted. Information. Articles. The promise of coffee. I was just like Pavlov's dog.  
"Not our guy," Emily commented. I nodded.  
"Don't talk about him like an unsub!" JJ hit Emily in the arm jokingly.  
"I feel like his name is Mark," Emily posited.  
"Mark? There are a million Marks" I frowned.  
"Okay, not Mark. Something more unique. Fitzgerald?"  
"Yes, I'm texting a 17th-century aristocrat." She thought for a moment.  
"Walter." I raised my eyebrows.  
"Walter? Where did that come from?"  
"I don't know. Sounds like Waldo. Where's Waldo? Who's Walter?" I shook my head in resignation.  
"So," JJ pressed on, "Is he cute?"  
I don't know why, but I played along. I answer, very vaguely, their questions about Reid. Was Walter smart? Yes. Was Walter tall? Yes. Were we close? Sort of. This lasted until the plane touched down in Detroit.  
"You better bring him in," JJ insisted, "I want to meet this person," Emily smirked.  
Thankfully, I was saved by Rossi asking a question about the details of the case.

It was just after 10:00 pm. For at least the fiftieth time that day, my phone vibrated in my back pocket. I grabbed it out of my pocket and felt my heart skip a beat when I saw the name Reid in the blue glow.  
"Fuck," I whispered. Maybe Prentiss was on to something.

Reid: Are you still at the station?  
Me: Yeah, you?  
Reid: I'm in the integration room. You should go home. It's late  
Me: Walk me home?  
Reid: Be right there

"Hey," said Reid a few moments late as he walked up to my desk.  
"Are you ready to go?" he asked. I nodded.  
"Bye Prentiss," I said to Emily, "Don't forget to sleep."  
"How can I when I'm consumed with discovering Walter's true identity?" I waved and pick up my bag.  
"Who's Walter?" Reid said as we walked out the front doors of the station and into the cool Detroit night.  
"Nothing. Prentiss is just making fun of me," I clarified, "God it's cold."  
"Here, take my jacket." Before I could say anything, he'd already shed and handed me his thick jacket.  
"Reid," I protested.  
"I'm not cold."  
"Don't try to tell me that all those LA winters made you resistant to the cold." He chuckled.  
"The cold is nice. It's only a short walk anyways." Reluctantly, I accepted.  
"Thanks." It was cozy and soft, but my fave still stung from the icy breeze.  
"Weather like this makes me miss California," I said. He smiled.  
"It never dips below zero in San Francisco," I pouted.  
"No, but the fog never lifts either."  
"Fine by me."  
"My middle name is Walter," Reid confided suddenly.  
Oh my god. Oh my god. Prentiss was such a sneaky-  
"That's us, right?" Reid's comment interrupted the rushing swell of my thoughts. He gestured to the hotel in front of us.  
"Yeah," I got out. We parted in the lobby and when he said goodnight I felt the same tiny rush I did when I saw his name on my phone. I didn't know what it meant, but I knew I was in trouble.


	5. Backup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya and Reid are caught in a dangerous situation.

stand by me - kina grannis

Okay. Okay. I might have a little crush on Reid, I thought to myself at my desk the next morning. That was bound to happen. He was smart, nice, a great profiler. I was just warping my respect for his skills into something else. Perfectly understandable.  
But now it had to stop. I mean, I couldn't have a full-blown crush on my coworker. That would be distracting. Even potentially dangerous. I leaned back in my seat. Plus, It would make things very awkward between us if he ever found out.  
"Morning Maya," Prentiss said as she walked past my desk.  
"Hey," I said, "Come here a moment?" She retraced a couple of steps to stand by my computer.  
"Did you know that Reid's middle name is Walter?"  
"It's a possibility." She smirked.  
"Well, just so you know, there's nothing going on there," I said quietly. Her face betrayed the slightest amount of doubt.  
"I know, I was just messing with you," she said.  
"Yeah, of course, but... Maybe just... You know if it was anyone else it'd be fine, but I don't want to screw with Reid. I'd don't know if he'd get it if he found out," I said. I flipped a pen around in my fingers. Prentiss's eyes, deep in concentration were drawn to the twirling pen and didn't leave them as she responded.  
"No problem. I think JJ is waiting for us."

"I think we might be looking at a female unsub," Reid said. We were in the Denver police station. Emily was tacking you maps of the surrounding area on an evidence board. "Organized, meticulous. And all the victims are men who mistreated their wives: It could be a revenge killing."  
I looked up from the case file. I hadn't thought of that at all.  
"It's possible," Rossi said. He picked up a photo of the lasted victim and examined it.  
"Has Garcia found any connection between the victims?"  
"She's supposed to call any minute," Morgan said. As if on cue, his phone rang.  
"Was just talking about you, sugar," Morgan said into his phone. He pressed a button.  
"You're on speaker. What's you find?"  
"The only way I can tie them together is that they all were married scumbags looking for a house right before they were killed."  
"That makes sense. They were all dumped within a block of an open house."  
"House hunting... Can you check the real estate agencies-" Prentiss began.  
"One step ahead of you," Garcia interrupted, "They all used the same one. It's called Moore Real Estate. I just texted you the address of its headquarters."  
"Thanks, Garcia!" I said before the line went dead.  
"Should we inform the public?" JJ asked.  
"If our unsub is female then I'm afraid we'll scare her off. She might move and then we'll be out of luck," Hotch said.  
"We can talk to the agency," I said, "Ask around?"  
"She'll notice that too," Prentiss said.  
"So we'll go undercover. Pretend to be buying a house, see who we meet," I revised. Hotch, as always, looked stern. Then he turned to Rossi.  
"It's not a bad idea. We need to send a couple, to see if she reacts," Rossi shrugged. Hotch looked back at his audience.  
"Davis and Reid will go," Hotch said decidedly, "We'll mike you, just in case." My heart skipped a beat before I could remind it that I didn't care, it was just work. But jeez, what are the chances that the day I decide to keep my thoughts about Reid strictly platonic is the day I have to pretend to be married to him. I glanced at him and he gave me a small smile as if to say "What'd'you know?" I raised an eyebrow in response and tried to ignore Prentiss staring a hole in the back of my head.

"Remember, Reid, you have to treat Maya like a misogynist cheating bastard of a husband," Morgan reminded before Reid and I walked into the open house.  
"I know," Reid said, slightly exasperated.  
"He's just telling you because he thinks you're too nice to remember," I said, putting a pacifying hand on his arm.  
"She's right, Pretty Boy," Morgan said, "And don't forget we'll be right outside. Just holler if you need something."  
"Do you think she's the one?" I asked Reid when we were closer to the house.  
"She fits the profile," he said and motioned for me to go first. I shook my head.  
"Far too nice," I teased. He gave me a look but went first.  
"You must Mr. and Mrs. Garner," our suspect said. I smiled sweetly and began to say "Nice to meet-" but I was cut off.  
"Yes. We spoke over the phone," Reid said. I almost smiled at his out of character behavior but I caught myself at the last moment.  
"Let me show you around," she said with a bright smile. Reid grabbed my wrist and pulled me roughly toward him. Then he put his arm around my shoulder protectively. Who knew Reid was such an actor.  
"The master bedroom is amazing. Very spacious. You get natural light from these windows." When she turned to me, I made a point of adjusting my skirt so that it revealed a large bruise on my shin. I had gotten that a few days ago when a fleeing suspect had pushed a rolling cabinet into me. She didn't know that. Her eyes flashed.  
"Why don't we go to the living room," she asked politely.  
"Should we go? It looks like she's the one," I whispered to Reid.  
"Up to you. We don't have enough for a warrant yet," Reid whispered back.  
"Let's stick around a couple of minutes. She doesn't strike the next day when she calls back just the husband." And they always came, those assholes, convinced they were about to have the extramarital affair of a lifetime with a real estate agent.  
"Right around here," she said.  
Then she opened a cabinet and pulled out a gun. Before I could react, Reid stepped in from of me. Which was stupid, because he was the one she wanted to kill.  
"Step away from him," she told me, "Do it or I'll shoot both of you right now." I stepped away from Reid, who glanced nervously toward me. I accidentally knocked into a coffee table, sending an empty mug tumbling down on the floor.  
"Hands in the air." We complied.  
Oh crap, what was her name? My nervous thoughts were flying through my head, dislodging the important stuff. We forgot to factor in the devolving. That's why she didn't wait to call Reid back.  
"Alice," I said, "Don't do this." She shifted their gun toward me.  
Definitely not my first time at gunpoint, but certainly the first in a while. Ok. I could deal with this.  
"You don't understand," she said.  
"I do understand," I said, "I understand that your father beat you as a child, that you had to take it all until you were old enough to escape." She kept the gun trained on me, clearly anxious that I was doing all the talking.  
"And to go through all that, just to marry a man who ended up being just as abusive, that must have been horrible." Her eyes went slightly out of focus.  
"I just wanted to be in love. And he killed my dreams. He hurt me every day. For four years."  
"I know, Alice. And you just wanted to make him pay for what he did to you."  
"Is that so much to ask? After what he did?"  
"But you don't want to hurt me, do you? I'm like you were."  
"You're protecting him. If you were like me you'd step out of the way and let me shoot him." Ok, I thought, what do we have to work with? Reid said she wasn't the type to back down, that she'd go out guns blazing. That wasn't particularly helpful. The coffee mug I had knocked over was on the floor next to me. I wondered if I could reach it with my foot.  
"No, I'm protecting you," I said, "If you do this you'll throw away any chance you have at leniency." I shifted my foot. At least Reid has enough sense to keep quiet.  
Where was Morgan? They should have realized something was wrong by now, right?  
"Please," I said, "Put to gun down."  
"You'll thank me later," she said and shifted her focus to Reid. The aim of her gun was still on me, but her eyes bored into him.  
I slipped the toe of my shoes into the mug and, quick as can be, kicked it behind her. It broke a window, and, more importantly, made a loud sound. Like anyone inexperienced with guns, she dropped her hand as she instinctively turned around to see what the clamor was about. That was when I pounced. I pried the gun away from her, clicked the safety on and slid it across the room to Reid. Pinning her down, I handcuffed her and read her Miranda Rights. Not that she was paying any attention to that. She was busy screaming at Reid.  
"You'll pay for what you did. I'll see you in hell, you bastard."

"That was dangerous," Reid scolded after the show was over, "You shouldn't have done that."  
"She wasn't going to back down."  
"You should have waited for back up."  
"I had back up. You were right there." Reid opened his mouth slightly as if to say something, then closed it again.


	6. Up All Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya and Reid get closer to catch a criminal.

softly - clairo

"We're going to be up all night," I asserted, as the kind police force of Los Lunas, New Mexico handed me the fifth and final box of case files to examine.  
"Should we head back to the hotel? We can get some food," Reid said. It was just us left in that station, along with a few of the local officers. Going through these suspects was going to take another 2 hours at least. It was a shame Garcia could sort through them in an instant as she could with digitized records. Curse the city Los Lunas and surrounding areas for being behind the times.  
"Sounds good to me," I responded, "I'm starving."  
"You're always starving," Reid smirked.  
"Very true. I'll order the food, you grab the boxes. Chinese?"  
"Sure."

By 1:00 a.m. we had narrowed it down to 33 files of unsolved cases that could be connected with the present-day serial killings. Photos, witness statements, and police reports were strewn across the floor of Reid's hotel room. Our empty takeout containers were in the otherwise empty trash.  
"Ew, why are they so dusty," I complained, wiping the dust of a manila folder against the hotel carpet.  
"They're from 1975." I threw a fortune cookie at him.  
"This is not how I imagined spending my twenties," I told him.  
"How did you imagine spending your twenties?" he asked.  
"I don't know. Traveling. Going on some great adventure. Falling in love." I waggled my eyebrows comical at him.  
"You can still do all that."  
"Have you?"  
"Yeah. I think so," he said quietly and cracked open his fortune cookie. There was a pause. I watched him and my eyes lingered on his lips a little too long.  
"What's your fortune?"  
"The answer you're looking for is right in front of you," he read. I laughed, probably a little too loudly given that it was nearing 2:00 a.m. and the hotel walls were not very thick.  
"We already know that," Reid said pointedly while I laughed. Every time I tried to stop I saw his amused expression and started giggling again.  
"Ok, ok," I said finally, "Let's think. We've narrowed it down to white males, late 20s, blue-collar jobs, shot in the head execution-style. What was in the tox screen for our recent victims?"  
"Traces amounts of xylazine. It's a muscle relaxant and an anesthetic. But none of these files mention xylazine."  
"But these files are from the 70s when xylazine was hardly a thing. Xylazine is used for sedating cattle and large mammals. Back in those days, the equivalent was ketamine," I mused. Reid flipped through the files and pulled out six.  
"The toxicology report for these victims found high levels of ketamine." He sounded proud.  
"I know we established that the unsub likely has medical training, but I think he might be a veterinarian. He used to use ketamine to subdue his victims, but as the government cracked down on drug use he had to switch to xylazine."  
"Makes sense to me," Reid confirmed. I stood up for the first time in two hours and raised my arms in victory. Reid laughed. Thank god, that took forever. Then I plopped down on Reid's bed and laid back like a starfish on the inviting mattress.  
"Will you read the file summary so we can check that it all checks out?"  
"Sure, the first one is Mark Vaught. Twenty three, a construction worker." That's the last thing I remembered. 

"Maya, hey," Reid's voice and his warm hand on my arm pulled me out of a dream, "I think we need to go." Slightly dazed, I opened my eyes and extended my limbs out of my fetal position.  
"Did Hotch call?"  
"Now, but we're supposed to be there in twenty-five minutes. That gives you ten minutes to get ready." I was slowly realizing that I must've fallen asleep fully clothed, except for my shoes, which I had discarded much earlier in the night. I sat up. All the mess of last night had been cleaned up and the files were neatly tucked back into their boxes.  
"Where did you sleep?"  
"Sofa," he said nonchalantly.  
"You should have woken me up! I didn't mean to steal your bed," I said and stood up. He shrugged and fussed with the zipper of his jacket.  
"You needed to sleep," he said. I grinned.  
"Spencer, you're too nice for your own good." At this, he looked up and examined my face curiously.  
"What?" I asked.  
"You called me Spencer."  
"That's your name," I pointed out.  
"You've never called me Spencer. Just Reid."  
"Well, I guess I thought now that I've spent the night in your bed we're on a first-name basis." Immediately, his cheeks started to blush.  
"I m-mea—" he started, but I waved my hand dismissively and grinned.  
"I'm just kidding, Spencer. I'll see you at the station."

"Good news," Hotch reported the next morning at the station, "Reid and Davis were able to figure out the unsub's victims in the '70s. Garcia ran them through the system and figured out what they all have in common. They were all on the same high school football team."  
"Three cheers for Sherlock and Watson," Morgan said, raising his coffee cup to us. I rolled my eyes at him. He just winked back un typically Morgan fashion.  
"Wait, weren't there like two hundred files? How did you narrow that down?" Prentiss asked with her eyebrows raised.  
"Two servings of Chinese food and four hours of staring at case files," I told her.  
"Maya also figured out that the unsub is likely a veterinarian using xylazine to subdue his victims," Reid said.  
"Excellent work," Hotch said. I bit my cheek to keep from smiling with pride.  
"I'll get Garcia to crosscheck people on or associated with the football time with those with veterinarian training," Morgan said. In an instant, he was flirting with Penelope, who found our unsub and sent his address.


	7. Sex Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya freaks out when she has an intimate dream about her coworker, until she finds out she’s not the only one.

i wish i never met you - oh wonder

"Fuck," I told the ceiling of my D.C. apartment, "Fuck."  
"Fuck," I told my walls.  
"Fuck," I told my bathroom mirror.  
"Fuck," I told my coffee mug.  
I had been doing so well. Reid and I were just friends. And pretty good ones too. We laughed at inside jokes, saved each other spots on the plane or in meetings, texted each other jokes. Things friends do.  
Then my stupid unconscious had to dream about Dr. Spencer Reid in a way that was decidedly not platonic.  
"Fuck," I breathed into my empty kitchen.  
It wasn't a sex dream. At least I had that going for me.  
I had to get going. I pulled a coat over my blue blouse and black dress pants and chucked my keys, and book in my go-bag. Off to the races.

God, this was going to be a long case. I couldn't even look Reid in the eye. He handed me a cup of coffee. I just mumbled my thanks and turned away.  
"Are you okay?" he asked. All I could think about was the dreamy remembrance of us alone in on the jet.  
We had been standing, me leaning on the desk. He had stepped forward, closer to me. Put his hands on my hips. Lifted me on to the table. I had intertwined my fingers behind his neck. He had leaned in and—  
"Maya? Hello? You okay?" Reid asked again, a little concerned now. I just nodded and sipped my coffee. 

"Buckeye, Arizona," JJ began we were seated in the conference room. I tried to focus on board, but the phantom hands of Reid on my lower back, against my neck kept distracting me. It didn't help that Reid was sitting right next to me. I sat on my hands and breathed deeply, waiting for my idiot brain to calm down.  
"Thanks, JJ," Hotch said when she was finished presenting the case. Wheels up in thirty. We knew the drill.  
"Maya?" Reid touched my hand. I recoiled automatically, my skin pricking where his fingers had made contact. Everyone else had left, I just noticed. Reid looked hurt.  
"Did I do something?" he said.  
"What? No. It's fine." He looked skeptically at me. I felt like if I made eye contact with him for more than a few seconds he'd see right through me. He got up to leave.  
"Reid? What do we know about the significance of dreams?"  
"Freud's theories about the significance of particular dreams have been widely rejected. However, there is a consensus that dreams may often be an unconscious reflection of our internal anxieties, fears, desires, hopes, and fantasies." Every time he started talking I felt his lips on mine. Fuck!  
"Mhm."  
"Bad dream?"  
"Depends on how you define bad." He arched a single eyebrow.  
"Oh?"  
"Don't you dare," I told him.  
"What?"  
"I see the gears of your genius brain turning. Don't try to guess."  
"I wasn't going to," he said innocently. I gave him a look.  
"Depends on how you define bad," he repeated thoughtfully.  
"Spencer!"  
"Sex dream. About Morgan?"  
"What? No!" I was turning red, I knew it.  
"Hotch?"  
"Oh my god, Reid, what the hell?"  
"That's not a denial." He was barely suppressing a laugh.  
"No, I did not have a sex dream about Hotch," I whisper-shouted at him. The last thing I wanted was for someone, especially Hotch, to walk by and overhear.  
"Hey, you wouldn't be the first."  
"What?" Now I was really paying attention.  
"Who had a dream about Hotch?" I asked, beyond intrigued, "And how do you know?"  
"JJ?" he asked me.  
"JJ has a sex dream about Hotch?"  
"No, no. Did you have a sex dream about JJ?" I chuckled.  
"No! And it wasn't about sex." He pouted his continued ignorance of my dream.  
"Who had a dream about Hotch?" I repeated.  
"I can't tell you," Reid said, shaking his head, "She'd kill me."  
"So it's a she. And it's not JJ." Suddenly Reid looked very nervous.  
"Maya, I'm not kidding. I'm going to end up dead in a ditch."  
"It's not Penelope. We all know she only dreams about one BAU member." Reid looked progressively more panicked and it was hilarious.  
"No... Emily?" He didn't say anything, but his face betrayed everything.  
"How do you know?" He broke down.  
"She got pretty drunk in Las Vegas and said more than she intended."  
"Who knows?"  
"Morgan and me."  
"Oh my god. Oh my god. I don't know what to do with this information." My eyes were miles wide.  
"Nothing, Maya, do nothing."  
"Not a chance, Sherlock." I bounced out of my chair and went merrily toward the jet. Reid followed.

As soon as I saw her I burst into laughter.  
"What?" Emily asked, disturbed. I could not stop laughing.  
"What?" she asked again.  
"You," I wheezed, barely audible, "Dream. Hotch." That was enough for her to get the gist.  
"It was one time!" I just kept laughing.  
"Who told you? Reid? I'm going to kill him." Reid, who was a couple of yards behind us, held his hands up.  
"This is so like, to spill every secret just to cheer you up."  
"She figured it out on herself," Reid said. He took small steps backward, distancing himself from Prentiss' anger.  
"Bull crap," she retorted. I had finally stopped laughing, at least enough to breathe.  
"Jesus Christ, Emily," I said, "He's got a kid."  
"I will not be held responsible for my unconscious mind," she said defensively. Morgan has stepped closer to see what all the fuss was.  
"Oh, is this about Emily's... incident?" I started laughing all over again.  
"You make it sound like I wet the bed," Prentiss complained. By now even she was barely holding in a smile.  
"Well..." Morgan started.  
"No!" Reid looked confused. I might have been hyperventilating by that point.  
"The jets almost ready," Hotch said. He was a mere five feet behind us. Morgan glances at Prentiss, who glared at Reid, who looked nervously at me. I grabbed onto Reid just to stay standing.  
"Yes, sir," Prentiss said while I buried my face into Reid's BAU jacket, giggling.


	8. Crossword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya struggles with her feelings as Reid struggles, or rather, doesn’t struggle with a crossword.

uncle iroh - tobi lou 

What is wrong with me? I thought to myself as I stood uselessly on a curb in Arizona. Reid has asked me just a moment ago if I could wait a moment so he could say goodbye. He was saying goodbye to the child of the woman we'd just saved, telling the kid he'd done a great job and to take care of his mother. Henry, the kid's name was. He didn't have a father around, or any siblings. I guessed Henry reminded Reid of himself. But watching Reid crouch next to that kids, giving him a final piece of advice, all I could think about was kissing Reid's stupid, caring face. Really, what was wrong with me?

"Sorry for making you wait," Reid said when he returned. I muttered something about it being no problem. His head tilted to the side.  
"Are you okay?" he asked. He had his BAU jacket on, hair in easy waves, like always.  
"I'm fine," I said defensively. I didn't meet his eyes. I was a professional member of the FBI. A profiler, well versed in human behavior and what drives it. Why couldn't I get over a stupid crush?  
"Take off is in twenty minutes," I said, "We better get going."   
"Okay."   
"How was Henry?" His features softened almost imperceptibly. God, I wanted to kiss him right then and there.  
"Better. I think he's going to be alright." I smiled.  
"I'm glad."

"JJ!" I whisper-shouted as soon as I spotted her on the runway. JJ turned toward me with an eyebrow raised. I moved close enough that our conversation couldn't be overheard.  
"If you tell anyone this I will kill you in a way that can never be traced to me by anyone in or outside of the BAU."  
"That's aggressive."  
"Just say you won't tell," I said sternly.  
"Yes, ma'am." I rolled my eyes.   
"I might have a problem." Her eyes widened but before she said anything I quickly clarified.  
"It's nothing. I just- I need your advice. What do you do if you had feelings for someone and you needed to get rid of them? Preferably as soon as possible."  
"Who is it?" she demanded immediately.  
"No one." She glared at me.  
"Just help me. Please." The staircase leading up to the jet was unfurling.  
"Well, it depends. How long have you been into this guy?"  
"I don't know," I groaned.  
"Are you in love with him?"  
"What? No. It's just a crush," I asserted. I was not in love. Definitely. Probably.  
"I mean, the quickest way to get over a guy is to find someone else. But only if it's just a crush," she said. Hotch and Morgan were already ascending the steps.  
"Who is it?" she asked again.   
"It's really nothing, I promise. It's just distracting me."  
"Is this what Emily was saying about the texting?" That was a couple of weeks ago. I was surprised she remembered.  
"Yeah. Don't tell her, okay? I don't want her to get any ideas." JJ laughed and gestured for me to enter the jet.  
"Emily always has ideas. She can't be stopped."  
"That's what I'm worried about," I said.

On the jet, Reid slid into the bench I was sitting on.   
"Mind if I sit here?"  
"Not at all."  
"Whatcha doing?"  
"Crossword."  
"Oh. Can I see?"  
"No way, Reid. I know you know all the answers. I'm trying to figure it out on my own." He pouted.  
"I won't say anything," he promised. I looked at him knowingly.  
"Please?" he flashed those puppy dog eyes and my resolve melted like butter in a warm pan.  
"Fine." I slid the crossword over so he could see. He looked at it and nodded slowly.  
"See? I can tell you want to say something," I said.  
"No, I don't," he replied unconvincingly. He bit his lip.  
"Spencer."   
"I don't have anything to say. I don't know the answers." I barely suppressed a laugh.  
"You're a horrible liar." I took the paper back and studied the remaining clues. Next to me, Reid squirmed.  
"Cmon, just say it."  
"Down 4. Minor rustic fertility god. Seven letters."  
"Mhm?"  
"Priapus." I wrote it down. Then I punched him jokingly in the shoulder.   
"Sorry," he said sheepishly. I reached my bag, pulled out another copy of the same newspaper, and set it in front of him.  
"What's this for?" he asked.   
"You, stupid. I knew you could resist." One of the sides of his mouth pulled into a smile.   
"Thanks."   
"No problem."  
He reached across the table toward my side for a pen that was lying there. Of course, Reid didn't need to erase. As he grabbed it, the side of his body pressed into mine. My heart pumped a little faster. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to go out with someone, find a new person to project my clearly misplaced feelings onto.   
I leaned over a few minutes later to see where he was. Unsurprisingly, he was almost done.  
"Strips in geography class?" Reid muttered to himself.  
"Isthmi," I supplied. He looked up smiled at me. We were still touching. I thought I might implode.   
"Excuse me," I said, "Can I get out?" His face fell imperceptibly, but with a polite nod, he stood to let me out of the bench. I walked over to JJ, who was, as always, reviewing paperwork.   
"Hey JJ, do you know what our next case is?"  
"I'm not sure, but likely San Diego. There's a string of murders in that area. We'll probably leave tomorrow morning." I nodded contently. More work, less time for distractions.


	9. SoCal (jealousy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The teams get called out to California, where Maya tries to get past her crush by finding someone new. Reid does not approve.

still feel it all - MALO

"Prentiss," Morgan whispered when we walked into the San Diego Police Department, "Stop drooling."  
"I'm not drooling," she said, but her eyes didn't leave the detective in front of us. I could understand why. He was young, probably late twenties. Tall, well built. Chiseled jawline. Very handsome. JJ introduced us one by one to Detective Bailey. Firm handshake, I noted.  
"Very nice to meet you all," he said, looking directly at me with his blue eyes. Mmm, California boys. Except the outfit, he looked like he could be straight off the beach.  
"Let me show you where you guys can set up," he said.

"That might be the hottest man I've seen in real life," Prentiss announced in a hushed tone when he left the room. Morgan raised an eyebrow. I laughed.  
"Seriously, did he retire from a career as a supermodel?"  
"JJ, stay here and get set up," Hotch instructed, "Morgan, Prentiss, talk to the parents of the last victim. Rossi, you're with me, I want to talk to the coroner. Reid, Davis, Detective Bailey will take you to the latest crime scene. See what you can find." I nodded.  
Prentiss, elbowed me, "Lucky."

Someone new, I thought to myself as I climbed into the front seat of Detective Bailey's car. Reid slid into the back. A new distraction, something I could actually leave behind next case. Hell, I was young and in my physical prime. I want going to waste that tied down to a crush. Not that it was really a crush, what I felt for Reid. Had felt. Past tense. Anyways, Bailey fit the bill perfectly.  
"You from around here?"  
"No, California though. I grew up in San Francisco," I replied.  
"Makes sense. I can always spot a California girl."  
"Is that so?" I asked, amused.  
"Sure is," he returned casually, leaning back into his seat, "Can take a girl out of California, but you can't take the California out of a girl." At that I laughed.  
"It's a shame, San Francisco, though," he continued.  
"What's wrong with San Francisco?" I said defensively. No one but me was allowed to insult my hometown.  
"Well, I was hoping we could be friends, but know that I know you're from NorCal, I could possible fraternize with the enemy," he teased. I giggled in spite of myself. Damn, he was kinda smooth.  
"At least you're West Coast," he admitted.  
"Reid too. He's from Las Vegas."  
"Oh really bro?" Bailey directed over his shoulder, "That's cool. I love Las Vegas."  
Reid, clearly caught off guard by being called "bro", could only offer up a tepid "Thanks".  
"We're here," Bailey said and pulled up to the curb.  
"Try not to blind yourself in the sun. I know you're probably used to perpetual fog," he said to me.  
"Don't be jealous," I said and opened the car door.  
"What's to be jealous of? SoCal is superior in literally every way possible," Bailey state's matter-of-factly.  
"Not a chance, Surfer Sam." He clutched his chest in mock pain as we walked toward the other side of the parking garage where the victim was found.  
"The traffic is better. The food. The schools. The tech industry," I rated off.  
"Ok, you might be right about the traffic. But the food? Clearly you need some recommendations." His tone was unabashedly flirtatious. The angled sunlight lit the asphalt of the parking garage floor.  
"Maybe I just need someone to show me around," I replied. Behind me, Reid coughed. Oops, I had almost forgotten he was there.  
By now we were feet from body. Reid and I shook hands with the lead crime scene tech.  
"No fingerprints or DNA. We found some fibers, not sure what they are yet. We'll send the to the lab," she told us.  
"Send them to our lab. You'll get them back my tomorrow morning," I said. Reid bent down to get a closer look.  
"Sure thing."  
"She's missing jewelry," Reid observed.  
"What kind?" I asked.  
"At least two rings. Maybe more. There's one left, though." I bent down next to him. The ring in question was thin, and the tan line on the finger extended above it.  
"It's not hers," I remarked.  
"The murderer put a ring on her?" Bailey asked. I peered closer and, losing balance, put a hand on Reid's should to steady myself. He instinctively grabbed my arm to keep me upright.  
"Looks like a promise ring," I said.

"So?" Prentiss asked when Reid and I walked back through the doors of the station.  
"I already texted Hotch, didn't he tell you? The unsub put a promise ring–"  
"No, I got that. How'd it go with Bailey?" she teased.  
"It was fine. Nothing happened."  
"Sure."  
"He may have been flirting a little," I confided. She raised an eyebrow.  
"He was definitely flirting," Reid injected. I turned on my heels to find him behind me.  
"Don't be so loud!" I said, feeling very much like a high schooler with a crush.  
"It's obvious that he likes you," Reid shrugged. Ouch. Even though I was totally over my thing for Reid, it hurt that he didn't bat an eye over me with another guy.

"Hey, Reid, has San Diego ever had a serial killer before this?"  
"Seems like a question for Bailey," Reid returned coldly.  
"Ok... You okay Reid?" He raised his eyes to meet mine and his expression softened and suddenly hardened again. I saw him clench his jaw.  
"Did I hear my name?" Bailey asked from behind me. I nearly jumped in surprise.  
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."  
"No, no, it's all good. I was just trying to remember if San Diego has had any documented serial killers before," I asked.  
"Oh sure. Samuel Little. They finally tried him when he was seventy-four. Apparently, he was wanted in connection to something like eighty murders." Bailey made the classic face of someone simultaneously impressed and disgusted.  
"Wow," I intoned. Was Reid mad at me? What did I do?  
"Between fifty and ninety-three murders," Reid corrected under his breath.

"I'll catch you guys later," I said, waving goodbye to the team, who was convening in the lobby, debating over where to go to dinner.  
"Wow," Morgan said, impressed, "Who knew Davis wore regular human clothes?" I was dressed in blue skinny jeans and a floral top. San Diego demanded a little more casual attire.  
"Off to see your surfer?" JJ asked with a grin. I rolled my eyes.  
"Where are you guys going?" Morgan asked.  
"Sushi, along some beach," I replied.  
"They say sushi is an aphrodisiac, you know," Prentiss said suggestively. In the background, Reid bristled. Fine by me, I didn't need Reid's praise or approval.  
"They say everything is an aphrodisiac," I laughed, "I'll see y'all in the morning."  
"Good luck!" Prentiss called after me while Morgan hooted. 

"Hey," I said, opening the passenger door to Bailey's car.  
"Nice to see you, Special Agent Davis," he said. So cocky.  
"Maya," I corrected.  
"Fine, but you still had to call me Detective Bailey. I need the ego boost," he said in a pseudo-serious tone. I laughed.  
"Whatever, Luke."  
"That really hurts, Maya." I remembered the first time I had called Reid "Spencer". He was so surprised, it was adorable. But, I reminded myself, that was just two friends joking around. 

Sushi was great. The beach view was great. Luke Bailey was great. Regardless, I couldn't help, my mind from wandering to the exact places I was trying to keep it from going. I was worried that I'd offended Reid somehow, that maybe I should call him to ask what was wrong. Just because I had stamped out the spark of a full-blown crush on him didn't mean I wanted him to be angry at me. Besides, I told myself, we still had to work together.  
"I really enjoyed myself tonight," Luke said. We were walking out of the restaurant.  
"Me too," I said, my thoughts still lingering elsewhere. But I really had had a good time. Luke was funny, kind, and definitely attractive. We had hit it off. So it didn't surprise me when, after a gentle moment, he leaned in for a kiss. It didn't surprise me that I kissed him back. It didn't surprise me that it was a good kiss, the perfect intensity. What did surprise me was that I felt nothing.  
After a few seconds I pulled back. He saw the swirl of emotion in my eyes and graciously backed off. Well, so much for not having a crush. I cursed myself for letting unrequited feelings get in the way of me and a beautiful Californian hunk.  
"Maybe I'll see you around?" he asked.  
"Maybe," I said with a smile.  
"Let me drive you home."


	10. Take a Message (jealousy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya calls Reid and gets an interesting response.

do i wanna know - arctic monkeys

I got back to the hotel just after ten o'clock. After collapsing ungracefully onto my bed fully clothed I reached for my phone.

Bailey: Let me know if you're ever back in San Diego. We have a round two of NorCal vs SoCal

I smiled and typed my response.

Me: Only if you're prepared to lose again  
Bailey: We'll have to see about that ;)

Then, grabbed by a sudden impulse, I found Reid in my contacts. My finger hovered over the call button. With a deep breath, I pressed down.

After three rings, the call picked up.  
"Reid?"  
"Nope, babygirl, just me," Morgan answered.  
"Morgan? Oh, uh, where's Reid?" Why was Morgan answering Reid's phone?  
"He's not currently available. Can I take a message?"  
Could he? Why was I even calling? I didn't really know. In the background I could hear the overlapping conversation and indistinct bass of a club. Were they out on the town? That hardly seemed like Reid.  
"Um, I was just calling to see if Reid was okay."  
"He's perfect, sugar," Morgan said. I didn't think I'd ever get used to Morgan's pet names. And they were nothing near the way he talked to Garcia.  
"Oh, okay," I said lamely. Was he with someone? Did Reid pick up some random girl?  
"Well, I'll see you tomorrow, Morgan," I added after a few second.  
"See ya, Davis." He hung up.  
Calmly, I brought up my fluffy hotel pillow to my face and I silently screamed into it.


	11. Obvious (jealousy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peek inside Reid’s perspective.

all the pretty girls - KALEO

"I wonder how Davis is doing with Bailey," Prentiss asked absently toward the end of dinner. The team, minus Davis, had ended up at an Italian restaurant. Four empty pizza plates were on the table, assorted styles reduced to the same bare metal. The check had been paid a few minutes ago. Hotch and Rossi were chatting calmly in the corner. They weren't likely to get wrapped up in the gossip.  
"Bowchicka wowwow," Morgan offered as an answer. Prentiss and JJ laughed, but Reid stiffened, catching Morgan's eye.  
"He seemed nice," JJ said.  
"What do you think, Reid?" Morgan asked.  
"About what?"  
"Bailey and Davis."  
"Good for them," Reid said flatly. JJ and Prentiss trades looks.  
"Okay," Morgan said to the table, "I think I'm going to hit the bar across the street. Any takers?" He sat up and put on his jacket which had been draped over the back of the chair.  
"No thanks, I'm exhausted," Prentiss declined.  
"I'm good," JJ seconded.  
"It's the mini bar for me," Rossi joked and began similar preparations to leave.  
"I'll go," said Reid. The was slight pause, everyone at the table freezing for just a moment in surprise.  
"Okay," Morgan said, "Let's go."  
"Wheels up in at 0830," Hotch reminded, "Have a good night."

Morgan has naturally planned to go to the bar and find a beautiful woman with which to spend the night, but Reid's gloomy mood took precedence. The pair sat down at the bar and Morgan signaled the bartender in practiced fashion to bring them two beers.  
"So, kid, Maya?"  
"What about her?" Reid asked, half sneer. He pushed his hair behind his ears and placed his hands back on the table at which point they because the focus of his distant stare.  
"You like her," Morgan said.  
"I don't."  
"Then why were you being so aggressive toward Bailey?"  
"He's stuck up. And mediocre," Reid said to his hands.  
"Cmon Reid, give it up, it's obvious," Morgan pressed and pushed on of the beers placed in front oh him toward Reid. Reid looked up, took it, and drank.  
"Great, so everyone knows?"  
"I think the only one who doesn't is Maya."  
"What makes you think that?"  
"If she knew, she wouldn't have gone out with that tacky San Diego guy," Morgan posited and took a deep gulp from his glass.  
"You don't have to do that," Reid said quietly.  
"What?"  
"Make fun of him for me." Morgan smiled.  
"I didn't like him. He's too alpha male."  
"You're an alpha male," Reid shout back, a smile creeping onto his lips. Morgan shrugged and downed the rest of his beer.  
"What do you think their doing? Maya and him?" Reid asked.  
"I don't know. Why don't we get drunk and forget about it?" Morgan said, more command than question. Around them the noise of the bar was picking up; the regular crowd seemed to trickle in.  
"Wheels up is at 8:30 am."  
"Reid, you've got to learn a couple of things. One of them is this: everything has a price. A good night costs a hangover. That's just how it is." Reid rolled his eyes, but kept drinking.

At a quarter past ten, a few shots later, Reid was certifiably tipsy. Morgan, though barely feeling anything, was endlessly entertained by the genius's ramblings. Only Reid would discuss the failings of modern nuclear physics while drunk. Just as Morgan finished his third beer, Reid's phone rang on the bar counter.  
"Maya Davis," declared the screen. Reid went to reach for it, but Morgan was quicker.  
"Morgan!" Reid complained.  
"Nuh uh." Morgan stopped him with a hand.  
"Pick up!"  
"Not yet. You gotta make her wait for it," Morgan said calmly. After one more ring he picked up. Reid glared at him so much force that a passerby would be surprised Morgan's bald head didn't burst into flame.  
"No, babygirl, just me," Morgan said into the phone.  
"What does she want?" Reid mouthed.  
Morgan waived him off and said "He isn't currently available. Can I take a message?" By now Reid himself was on the verge of combusting with nervous energy, his fate entire in Morgan's hands. He leaned forward too far trying to hear and almost fell off his chair.  
"He's perfect," Morgan said, suppressing laughter. He winked at Reid. She must of asked how I am, thought Reid.  
Then there was a moment of silence. Reid started to say something but Morgan put out a hand, signaling him to shut up.  
"See ya, Davis," Morgan said and hung up.  
"So?" Reid asked immediately.  
"So?" Morgan played dumb.  
"Cmon, Morgan. What did she want?"  
"She was just calling to see if you were okay."  
"What? That's not good."  
"Sure it is. She's checking in on you," Morgan said. He let the bartender know they were ready for the check.  
"Like a babysitter," Reid groaned. Morgan laughed, though not unkindly.  
"She called you at ten p.m. to ask how you were. That's good in my books," Morgan told him.  
"Did she say anything about Bailey? Like how he was rude and horrible and she never wants to see him again," Reid asked hopefully. With a smirk, Morgan shook his head.  
"She didn't say anything about him. Cmon, kid, let's get you back to the hotel. You're going to need some sleep." After tipping the bartender, Morgan shepherded Reid out of the establishment, Reid complaining all the while about the detrimental effects of the antiquated system of tipping in the United States.


	12. My Type

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya and Reid break the tension on the jet home.

ask - the smiths

I avoided eye contact with Reid as we boarded the plane the next day, embarrassed and slightly annoyed. Embarrassed because I had called him last night and gotten Morgan instead. Annoyed because the thought of Reid with some sleazy club girl made my skin crawl. I had no real basis to be angry with him; my crush didn't give me any ownership over him. Still, it wasn't until we were in the cabin and I saw him hesitate before taking his usual place across from me that I could say anything.   
"Did you have fun last night?" I asked. He sat down.  
"What's that?" He blinked twice, flinching at the bright lights.   
"Did you have fun last night? Morgan made it sound like you were having a good time." I tried to keep the jealousy from infecting my tone.  
"Oh. Uh, yeah, I guess." He paused, deliberating.  
"You?" he said. His voice was taunt.  
"It was nice," I said simply. There was an foreign tension in the air, the cause of which I couldn't quite place.   
"You want to play?" I asked, referring to chess. He has been teaching me for months, but I was still horrible.   
"Sure," he said, more relaxed now.   
Soon we fell into a familiar rhythm: easy conversation, Reid wincing every time I made a wrong move, which was every time I made a move. By the time we flew into D.C., I was confident there was no bad blood between us.  
As the jet taxied, Reid coaxed me into a win entirely of his design.  
"Next time you'll get it by yourself."  
"Yessir," I said absently, collecting the chess pieces and folding up the board. I moved delicately. Reid wouldn't admit it, but he'd protect Gideon's chess board with his life.  
"So, you are going to keep in touch with Bailey?" The question caught me off and I looked up but he wouldn't meet my eyes.  
"Probably not," I said after a beat.   
"Why not?" Now he matched my gaze.   
"You sure are curious today," I told him.   
"Sorry," he muttered.   
"I'm just teasing. I don't know. He's not really my type."  
"Oh." He examined a white knight.   
"What is your type?"   
"I'm not really sure," I laughed. You, I wanted to say. He nodded and handed the knight. His fingers brushed mine and I tried not imagine leaning over the table to kiss him, right there, right then, in front of everyone.


	13. I’m Fine (Angst)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The BAU is a dangerous job. Someone gets hurt.

happy & sad - kacey musgraves

"Sir, sir, you can't go out of the house," Spencer said, blocking the door.  
"I can't go out of the house? My daughter is in danger. He's threatening her. The only thing I can do is protect her." Mr. Gonzales was being irrational, but he could hardly help it.  
"I understand that you, sir, but the best thing you can do for your daughter is stay safe. She's safe at the police station," I said. Mr. Gonzales took a deep breath and sat back down.  
"I'm going to double check her bedroom," I told Reid, "Make sure we didn't miss anything."  
"Good idea," he said. I climbed the stairs and went to the girl's room. 

A few minutes later my phone rang with a call from Garcia.  
"Maya! We found the unsub!" Garcia informed me with an incredible urgency.  
"Ok, who-" I started.  
"He's there."  
"What?"  
"I triangulated his cell phone. He's at the house." I didn't listen any longer.  
"Reid?" I called loudly and rushed to the stairs.  
At the front door I saw a white man, between thirty-five and fifty, attractive. The profile. He was holding a gun. I drew my weapon, but before I could aim he fired to shots straight in front of him. I felt my heart ripped forward out of my chest. My breath caught, but I pulled the trigger and caught him in the leg, sending him down.  
"Reid?" I called again, panicked, as I ran down the stairs. I kicked the gun away from the unsub. And looked around to find Reid on the floor. Mr. Gonzales was kneeling beside him.  
I shoed him away, telling him to call 911. Then I got on my knees next to Reid, who was clutching his leg and taking shallow breaths.  
"Are you okay? Where are you hurt?" I asked. I was in a frenzy that was deeply unprofessional, but I couldn't help it.  
"I'm fine," he said, with a smile. My eyes trailed down his body to find a wound on his lower thigh. The blood had soaked clear through his pants.  
"An ambulance is on its way. About seven minutes," Mr. Gonzales told me. I thanks him and asked him to apply keep and eye on our unsub. I had caught him in the shin. He'd be fine. Besides, I wasn't finding myself capable of mustering much sympathy for him.  
I turned back to Reid.  
"Ok, you're going to be fine."  
"I know that," he said, "Do you know that?" He was teasing me, but I was too busy coming off a blind panic to deal with his levity.  
"Shut up. I'm going to rip this." Without waiting for a response, I found the bullet hole in his pants and pulled until a slit big enough to see the wound. The bullet had just grazed him, but it had left behind a painful trail. Blood polled around the bullet's path and ran off in rivers. I took a deep breath. Then I tugged off my sweater and turned it into a hasty compress. I was certainly grateful I had a tank top underneath.  
"Maya," he protested, "I'm fine. You'll ruin your sweater."  
"You just got shot and you're bleeding profusely. I'm pretty sure I can spare a sweater." I said with a tinge of hysteria.  
"You'll get cold."  
"Spencer Reid, I swear to God, I'm going to kill you." Where was the EMT? Luckily, I heard the muted sounds of a far away ambulance.  
"I'm going to go handcuff that guy. Apply pressure," I instructed.  
When I returned Reid was dutifully pressing down on my sweater. I was thankful that it was black. If the color was lighter it would be painfully apparent how much Reid was bleeding.  
"How'd you know he was here?" Reid asked when I sat back down besides him.  
"Garcia called me," I replied, "Are you light-headed?"  
"No, I'm fine."  
"If you say 'fine one more time'..." He smiled at my cockily. I put the back of my hand on his forehead to check if it was warm.  
"What's that for?" he asked. His casual behavior and curiosity calmed me, just a little.  
"I don't know. I forgot all my first aid training," I admitted. He chuckled. In the background the sirens grew louder until they were right outside the door. 

The unsub and Reid were loaded in different ambulances and sent to the nearest hospital. Hotch and Prentiss arrived less then a minute after the first set of sirens in a police car. Morgan wasn't far after.  
"How's the kid?" Morgan asked.  
"He'll be fine," I assured him, finally thinking clearer. He nodded and wrapped an arm around me in his brotherly way. I blinked rapidly, fighting back a sudden surge of emotion from I-didn't-know-where.  
Having finished instructing the police department on how to proceed, Hotch walked over.  
"Great work, Davis," he said curtly.  
"Thank you."  
"Morgan, take her by the hotel to change, and then to see Reid at the hospital," he said. Morgan nodded. A deeper understanding seemed to exist between them. I looked down, realizing that I was covered in Reid's blood.  
"Let's go, Watson," Morgan said, he removed his arm and opened the passenger side door for me.  
"Is that really my nickname?" I whined and slid into the seat.  
"That's what you get for saving Sherlock."  
"Much help I was. I should have aimed faster. Then Reid would have gotten shot."  
"Don't beat yourself up. You did what you could with the time that you had."  
"Yeah, I know."  
"Seriously, Maya. You care way more about this then he does. He won't blame you at all." I looked at Morgan and when he caught my eye, something in the way he contemplated me made it obvious he knew how I felt about Reid.


	14. Cherry Jello

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid wakes up in the hospital and Maya is there to greet him.

opera house - cigarettes after sex

I was there when he rediscovered consciousness, having been coerced into going to the hotel to sleep for a three hours by Morgan, and having returned at 7 a.m. I had always thought it a little stalker-y to watch someone when they were sleeping, but I couldn't help studying Reid. He looked so peaceful. Younger. Carefree.   
Now that I had resigned to my crush on Reid, I was unsure of what to do. Should I just continue with business as usual? Try to wait it out? Obviously, I couldn't tell him, so in a way, what was the difference now that I wasn't denying it to myself anymore? I sighed. I knew it wasn't going to end well. 

Reid's unnaturally cheery disposition in light of being shot persisted even after he awoke from his medically induced nap the next around 9 a.m.  
"How you doing?" I asked though a mouth of hospital cafeteria jello when Reid eyes fluttered open. I sat at a bench beside his bed.  
"I'm great. It was just a few stitches. Did you stay here overnight?"  
"No, Morgan and I took shifts. I left for a few hours." He nodded contently.   
"Is that my jello?"   
"Mhm." He looked at me like one might look at a puppy who had dug a hole in the garden, trying for a split second to muster up discontent, then immediately giving up.  
"Don't worry," I said, swallowing the wobbly desert, "I saved you one." He chuckled.   
“I’m glad you’re okay,” I said, softer. Reid looked at me, gave me that small smile he would sometimes that made my heart stutter. I tucked a piece of hair behind me ear. There was a tension in the air, though I couldn’t be sure I wasn’t just imagining it. I felt like time had slowed down, just a tiny bit. Ninety percent speed, maybe. There was sun shining in from the window of Reid’s room, and I could see a thousand particles making a lazy descent toward the linoleum.  
"Good news," I continued. I paused to take another scoop of my jello. It was cherry. Or red flavored, at least.  
"Doctor said you're cleared to fly. You just have to stay out of overly physical situations." It was then that Morgan and Prentiss walked in behind me.  
"Overly physical situations?" Morgan repeated, the words dripping with innuendo. I stuck out my tongue.  
"You're tongue is red," Reid commented. I crossed my eyes trying to catch a glimpse.   
"Good to have you back, Reid," Prentiss said.  
"I was never gone."  
"Either way." I yawned and looked forlornly at my empty jello cup.   
"Were you eating jello?" Prentiss asked with an air of disgust.  
"Yup."  
"Jello is gross. It's the worst dessert."  
"First of all, fruitcake. Second of all, it's a proven fact that hospital jello is infinitely better than normal jello. I'm pretty sure they fill it with morphine." I yawned again. The amused glimmer in Reid's eyes made me self conscious.  
"Go take a nap, Davis," Morgan commanded, "We'll get Reid checked out." I was half tempted to argue, but the fluorescent hospital lights were making me woozy.  
"Sir, yes, sir. I'll see you later, Spencer."


	15. Cookies (fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya gets a invite to Reid’s apartment.

luck pusher - FINNEAS 

Me: Did you make it home safe?  
Reid: Yep. Morgan drove like there was an egg shell sculpture in the truck

I giggled. Morgan always took good care of Reid. 

Reid: What about you?  
Me: I'm good. Just deciding what you make for dinner  
Reid: Me too. Getting stitches makes me crave chocolate chip cookies  
Me: I don't know if that qualifies as dinner  
Reid: True. But the heart wants what it wants

I hesitated. What the hell? I thought.

Me: I'm stopping by the Thai place. Want me to bring you some soup?  
Reid: Yes please! Do they have chocolate chip cookies?  
Me: I'd hazard to say no. Maybe I'll have to bake some at your house  
Reid: Don't get my hopes up  
Me: Send me your address

I arrive half an hour later to his apartment, precariously balancing containers of soup. Reid beckoned me inside. His apartment was beautiful, minimal with vintage details. As I walked in he freed me of the soup burden and gestured that I sit down at the island of counter top in his kitchen, where three bar stools sat in a row. I complied.  
"I like your apartment," I said. On the expansive white walls hung modern art of vastly different styles. Behind me and the kitchen was a couch accompanied by a coffee table piled high with journals, newspapers, and science magazines.  
"Sorry, it's a bit off a mess," Reid said, following my gaze to the overcrowded coffee table.  
"You should see mine," I replied, then, realizing the potential flirtatious interpretation of those words, clarified "It's much worse than this. This is nice." He smiled.  
"So... soup?" he asked after I didn't say anything else. Honestly, I had kinda of forgotten about it.  
"Oh yeah! I got you chicken noodle. That's what sick people eat, right?"  
"I not sick," Reid corrected.  
"Well they didn't have a soup specifically for people who got shot in the leg so you'll have to make do," I replied. He laughed and grabbed the soup containers.  
"You eat that, I'll get started on the cookies." Reid perked up like a dog who had just smelled bacon. Then he shock his head.  
"Eat first. It'll get cold." I made a noise of resistance but Reid grabbed my arm and pulled me over and onto the dark grey couch.  
Suddenly I was hyper aware of everything. How I was dressed (black mom jeans and a white t-shirt), how I was sitting (knees together, ankles crossed), how close I was to Reid (a foot, maybe). There was music playing faintly.  
"Are you coming back to work Monday?" I asked.  
"Yeah." He pried the lid off of his soup.  
"I just realized this is the first time we've hung out outside of work or the team," he mentioned casually.  
"True," I said, blowing on my spoon to cool my soup.  
"We spend so much time together and I don't know anything about you." I paused.  
"I feel like we know the important things. Who we are." He gave me a half smile fished a piece of chicken out of his soup with the spoon.  
"This is really good," he said.  
"Yeah, it's this place on 3rd Street, just opened a month ago."  
"What's it called?"  
"I don't know. The sign's in Mandarin. Should ask Prentiss." He nodded.  
"Do you remember that time a suspect admitted to having meth in his car because he assumed none of us spoke Spanish?" 

Ten minutes later, I was laughing so hard I almost cried. We had finished our soup and I threw out the containers.  
"Please tell me you have flour," I said. Reid ran his hand through his hair, thinking.  
"I think so. Check the cabinet above the microwave." I did. There is was.  
"I can't reach that," I groaned.  
"I'll get it," he said. He moved to get up from the couple.  
"Don't move, Hiccup," I instructed.  
"What did you just call me?"  
"Hiccup, like from How to Train Your Dragon. He only has one leg."  
"What's How to Train Your Dragon?"  
"It's a movie. About dragons"—he raised an eyebrow— "Everyone's heard of it."  
"If you say so. Why is he named Hiccup?"  
"I don't remember. The point is, I made an excellent and topical reference and you should stay sitting."  
I contemplated the flour, far out of my reach. Then, with resolve, I clambered you do that my knees where on the countertop. I stretched an arm out and grabbed the bag. As I brought it down, the weight tipped me off balance and I had to hold the cabinet. Much to my surprise, as I grabbed the cabinet I felt two hands on my waist. Gently, they steadied me. I felt my blood warm.  
"Don't fall," Reid said  
"I wasn't going to!" I looked at him over my shoulder. He gave me a look to which I rolled my eyes dramatically.  
"I told you not to stand up! You'll hurt your leg," I censured.  
"I told you not to endanger yourself in my kitchen." He removed this hands and bit his lip. I almost whined at the loss of contact.  
"No you didn't!"  
"It was implied."  
"At least take this. Carefully," I said, handing him the flour, "If you bust your stitches Hotch will kill me."

"Spencer!" I protested for the sixth time. I batted his spoon away with a whisk. He had reached over from behind me toward the mixing bowl. In his efforts, he accidentally pushed me forward into the grey granite counter top. He didn't seem to notice, so I tried to shoo the dirty thoughts from my mind.  
"There won't be any left for the cookies," I warned. He pouted like a puppy and took a step back.  
"Ok, fine. Hey, what do you think that is?" he asked, pointing at something to my left. As soon as I turned, he grabbed the opportunity to scoop up some cookie dough. I spun back around and caught him red handed.  
"This is your fault," he posited before I could say anything, "You're too good at making cookies. You should have made gross cookie dough. Then we wouldn't be in this situation." I tried to look angry but I couldn't. He was too cute like that, tousled hair, spoon in mouth.  
"Just don't come crying to me when you get salmonella," I laughed.  
"Worth it."  
I looked at Reid, and all of the sudden I felt certain that I wouldn't be getting over him anytime soon.


	16. Blood Pressue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid may be injured, but that won't stop Morgan from teasing him.

crash my car - COIN

"How you doing, Sherlock?" Morgan asked Reid. The latter had just walked into the bullpen, assisted by a pair of crutches.  
"I'm great."  
"Do your leg hurt to walk on?"  
"No, it's actually fine to put pressure on. The doctors just wanted to act in accordance with an abundance of caution," Reid explained.  
"I'm sure. Hotch would have him blacklisted if he didn't anything to screw up our Pretty Boy." Reid gave half an eye roll.  
"So, no pain?"   
"Only when my blood pressure goes up significantly."  
"Significantly?" Morgan raised an eyebrow, "So like..."  
"Hey, Maya, come over here," he called to her.  
"Morgan," Reid warned.  
"Calm down, I just want to do an experiment," Morgan said so just Reid could here. Maya walked over, dressed in black jeans and a white blouse.   
"Do me a favor, won't you? Put your hands on Reid's shoulders," Morgan said, leaning against a desk.  
"What?" Maya asked with obvious confusion.  
"Maya, just ign—"  
"Shut up, Reid. Maya, just do it." Hesitantly, she did.  
"See, like dancing," Morgan chuckled. He watched Reid, who didn't react.  
"This is not like dancing," Maya laughed. She took Reid's hands and put them on her waist, then replace her own hands around his neck. They were much closer now.  
"This is like dancing," Maya asserted. Reid breathed in sharply.  
"Ow." Maya let go of him immediately.   
"Are you okay?"  
"Yeah, it's just my leg." She stepped back.  
"I'm so sorry," she said.  
"It's fine. It just does that sometimes," Reid assured her. Much to his dismay, Morgan was cracking up in the background.


	17. Criminal (fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reid and Maya get to know each other just a little better.

EASE - troye sivan

"Stop fussing! I'm almost done." It was true; I was almost at the end of the braid. Reid ignored me and continued fidgeting.  
"Your hair is so soft," I mused quietly.   
"Thanks?" I laughed. We were alone in the conference room, waiting for JJ and the rest of the team. Reid sat on a chair while I sat on the table, him facing away from me. My legs straddled his chair, feet dangling.  
"So that's where you kids are," Rossi chuckled as he peered into the room.  
"Just waiting for JJ," I said. Embarrassed, I let go of Reid's hair.   
"Don't stop," Reid said, "It feels nice." I smiled and let my fingers tangled once more in his waves. From the doorway, Rossi contemplated us.  
"JJ and Hotch will be ready in 5 minutes," he said and stepped back out.  
"Thanks!" I called after him.

Play with Reid's hair was deeply therapeutic. I could focus on nothing else but his brunette locks, forget the endless stream of case files, crime scene photos, and physical evidence.  
"You should charge for this," Reid said, leaning his head back into my lap. I giggled like a middle schooler.  
"I'm serious."  
"I'm just messing around," I said. My heart glowed like a low wattage bulb.  
"Yeah, but you do it a particular way. You're good with your hands." He made a vague gesture in front of him, flourishing his fingers.   
I ran one hand through his hair and he made a quiet sound akin to a purr.   
"Now you're just fanning my ego," I complained.  
"Never. Do you think I should get a haircut?" he asked.  
"I like it this length." Just then I heard the rest of the team walking up the stairs. Quickly, I slid off the table and into the seat next to Reid. Reid has just finished turning his chair around when Morgan entered the room.   
"Why do I get the feeling I almost caught you two in the act?" Morgan said with an eyebrow raised. Prentiss, Rossi, Hotch, and JJ filtered in behind him.  
"What act?" Reid asked.  
"I don't know. You tell me," Morgan teased. I rolled my eyes. It was only when Rossi winked at me that I felt myself blush.  
"Kensington, New Hampshire," JJ began.

"He's carving bible verses into their stomach?" Prentiss asked with marked disgust. I knew she a particular distrust of certain religious institutions. I couldn't imagine this helped.  
"Thessalonians 1:8. He will punish those who do not know God and do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus," Reid recited thoughtfully. I couldn't help but stare when he was like this, so unbelievably smart but casual. No sense of superiority. I watched his lips move. The way his eyes slipped slightly out of focus when he recalled something he had read or heard was fascinating.   
"Deuteronomy 32:35. It is mine to avenge; I will repay. In due time their foot will slip; their day of disaster is near and their doom rushes upon them."  
"They're all about revenge," I supplied.   
"Revenge? Could it be a female unsub?" Prentiss asked.  
"Or a vigilante," Hotch said.

"How are there this many people connected to the church in a 15-mile radius?" I asked, lolling my head back in frustration.  
"Kensington is a religious city," Reid replied. It was just the two of us. That seemed to be happening with increasing frequency; Hotch would send Prentiss and Morgan off in one direction, take Rossi with him in another, and Reid and I would end up together.   
"You're not religious, right?" I asked.  
"No, why?"  
"I was just wondering. I still feel like there's so much I don't know about you." He chuckled.  
We sat side by side at a table filled with lists of names and background checks.  
"I'm serious! Tell me a secret," I requested.  
"What?" he furrowed his eyebrows, "You can't just demand a secret."  
"I just did." I leaned back in my chair and put my feet in Reid's lap. He gave me a look that said "Really? Now?"  
"Cmon. Two minutes. We're down to like a hundred names. This will give us fresh eyes." He was doing a bad job suppressing a smile.   
"You first," he commanded.  
"Um... Okay, this is a bad one, so you can't tell anyone." I held out my pinky. He looked at it, confused.  
"Pinky promise?" I pushed.  
"Oh." He chuckled at my absurdity. Then he intertwined his pinky finger with mine and let it drop.  
"Okay, so one time, this guy asked me out. And I didn't want to go out with him. So, I told him I could go out with him because I was going to become a nun." Reid stared at me with a grin on his face.  
"I couldn't think of anything! He wouldn't leave me alone!" He just shook his head in disbelief.  
"Spencer, say something."  
"A nun?"  
"Mhm."  
"Did it work?"   
"Yep."  
"Wow."   
"Stop looking at me like that!" He laughed.   
"Now it's your turn." He paused to think and I caught myself staring at him. He was so cute when he was lost in concentration.  
"Okay. When I was six years old I stole a book from the bookstore. I was so upset about it that I walked three miles back just to return it." Just like that, I was lost. I couldn't stop laughing.  
"Oh my god! Spencer Reid, you're a criminal!" I managed between giggles.  
"I was six!" he said defensively, "And I gave it back." I stood up.  
"Where are you going?"  
"To get a cup of tea."  
"Grab me one?"   
"Sorry. Tea is only for law-abiding citizens." By the time I returned with two mugs of tea, Reid had figured out our top suspect.   
"What'd I say?" I teased, handing him a mug, "Fresh eyes."


	18. Sleeved Rolled Up (fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya drags Reid to a bar and the already sky-high tension just might lead to something big.

just kiss her - concorde

"Being in giant churches with serial killer priests makes me want to sin," Prentiss stated as she, Morgan, Reid, and I walked out of Christ Church, leaving the local PD to deal with the aftermath of the case. Morgan let out a wry laugh. The unsub has killed himself, but only after declaring that we were all living in sin and damned to Hell, etc.  
"I'm not kidding," Prentiss said darkly.  
"It's only 5 p.m.," I replied, "A little early for sinning." We made our way toward Morgan's borrowed car.  
"By the time we pack up and fly back, it'll be about nine. We could go out," she said. I looked at Morgan, who shrugged.  
"I'm down," he said. He walked around to the driver's side and slid in.  
"Me too," I said. I turned to Reid, "You?"  
He started to shake his head but Morgan interrupted him.  
"You're going." Reid gave me a pleading look as he opened the back door but I just smiled cheekily and climbed in.

"Cmon, Spencer, it'll be fun," I said to Reid on the flight home.  
"I don't really like clubbing," Reid said. He drummed his fingers on the table absently.  
"I don't think I should go," he said.  
"It's just a bar. Please? I'll be lonely without you." I gave him my best puppy dog eyes. He contemplated me, took a deep breath in and sighed.  
"You'll have Morgan and Prentiss," he countered.  
"You know for a fact that Morgan is going to ditch us as soon as possible. And Emily will find some guy too. We can stay together and watch them make a fool of themselves," I promised.  
He groaned but I took that as a sign of victory on my part.  
"Yay! It'll be fun, I promise."  
"Touchdown in 5," Rossi alerted us.

"Are you going home to change?" Prentiss asked when we were back at the bullpen.  
"Yeah, I need to shower. It's so hot."  
"Yeah, me too. I can pick you up at your place if you want and take you to the bar." She slung her go-bag over her shoulder.  
"Yes, please!"  
"I'll text you when I'm close!"

It really was hot. Too hot. I slipped out of the shower, and, after drying off, into a black dress. The satin felt good against my skin. I hope I was overdressed. The neckline was actually relatively conservative and it ended around the middle of my thigh. But it was definitely tight.  
Ten minutes later, I wiped a circle in the foggy mirror and considered myself. I pushed my blow-dried hair in front of my shoulder, swiped on some mascara and lipgloss, and shrugged. On the countertop, my phone buzzed.

Prentiss: Two minutes

I grabbed my phone, keys, and credit card and chucked them in a small handbag. Black high heels, not too tall, were my shoes of choice. When I opened the front door, I saw Morgan's car out front. I hadn't anticipated everyone to be there, but sure enough, Prentiss waved from the passenger side and I could see Reid in the back.  
Morgan let out a wolf whistle as I sat down in the back.  
"Looking good, Davis," he said appreciatively. I rolled my eyes. Prentiss turned in her seat and waggled her eyebrows. She was clad in skin-tight black jeans and a deep burgundy tank top. Now that was a low neckline. And high heels too, which made me feel less overdressed.  
Morgan, too, was dressed to impress. To be honest, he looked about the same as usual. Dark button-up, dark jeans.  
"Not so bad yourself," I shot back at Morgan. He fired up the engine and started us toward whatever bar we were heading to. I hadn't asked.  
"Spencer!" I said, almost indignant.  
"What?" I bit my lip to keep from laughing. He was dressed exactly as he always was.  
"You can't go to a bar dressed like that."  
"What's wrong with this?"  
"Nothing. It's just not bar-friendly attire."  
"Don't even try," Morgan told me over his shoulder, "I could barely get him out of the house."  
"Shh. Drive," I instructed.  
"Cmon," I said, "Let me fix it. Take off the sweater vest." Surprisingly, he complied.  
"Now the tie." Off it went.  
"Now we roll up your sleeves," I said and helped help him roll them up to his elbows.  
"Ta-da! You look good."  
"Ooh!" Prentiss said, "You look hot, Reid. Like a real heartbreaker." Reid blushed slightly.  
"Watson gives Sherlock a makeover," Morgan mused like he was brainstorming a new book.

The bar was loud. Not usually loud, but loud enough to that it took me several minutes to be able to focus on anything other than the noise. Morgan and Prentiss said their goodbyes and I told them good luck. I held onto Reid's arm and dragged him over to the bar. It was quieter there, away from the dance floor.  
"You want something to drink?" I asked him.  
"Sure." I ordered two beers on Morgan's tab and handed Reid one.

"I'm going to the bathroom, be right back," I told Reid about an hour later.  
"I'll guard your beer," he promised. I smiled.

After I dried off my hands, I walked back out of the bathroom. It took me a minute to find him, and when I did I was somewhat surprised to see him talking to a pretty ginger-haired girl in a silver top and black miniskirt. Slowly, I walked up to them.  
"You're a doctor? That's so cool!" The redhead gushed.  
"Thanks," Reid said a little stiffly. He seemed relieved when he looked to the side and saw me.  
"Hey, Spencer," I said, trying to sound friendly, "Who's this?"  
"Natalie," he said.  
"Oh, sorry, are you guys..." she trailed off.  
"Yes, sorry," Reid said before I could say "no."  
"Well, it was nice to meet you, Doctor," Natalie said and promptly whisked herself away.  
"What'd you do that for? She was hot!" I scolded.  
"We said we were going to stick together." I nodded. In my chest, my heart beat extra loud.  
"I was right about the sleeves, huh? I told you you look good," I teased, trying to play it off. He gave me a small smile.  
"It's so hot in here," I complained. I didn't know what else to say.  
"Wanna go outside?" Reid offered. I nodded and we made our way out of the bar.

Outside, the cool night air flooded my senses.  
Reid stood in front of me. I tipped my head back and let out a deep breath staring into the sky.  
"You can almost see the stars," I told him.  
"Wow."  
"Aren't they beautiful?" I hadn't seen the stars in a long time. Almost night for the past year since I'd joined the BAU I'd either been working or crashed somewhere, trying to make up for lost sleep.  
"Yeah," Reid said softly, but when I tore my eye away from the stars I saw he hadn't lifted his gaze from me.  
I wanted to kiss him. I want to grab his shirt and pull his lips to mine. I swallowed.  
"Do you think Morgan and Emily are gone?" I asked.  
"I saw Morgan leave. I don't know about Prentiss." I couldn't even look him in the eyes.  
"What time is it?" I asked. I felt like I was buying time.  
"10:12."  
"I hope you didn't have a horrible time in there. It was kind of loud. And sweaty. And–"  
"It was nice," he said, voice still soft. We were less than a foot away.  
"Yeah?"  
"Yeah. I like talking to you."  
"Me too."  
"Spencer?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Can we go to your apartment?"  
"Sure."

It was the world's longest taxi ride and it was only four minutes.  
My entire body was vibrating, or so it seemed, as I sat in the backseat next to Reid.  
He instructed the driver. I watched him.

When we got to Reid's apartment, he thanked the driver kindly and paid. I climbed out as gracefully as I could in my dress and Reid led me up the steps to his door. He put the keys in the lock turned them, he seemed to think better of it, let go, and kissed me.  
It was all I could do to keep myself from squeaking or making some other stupid sound. I wrapped my hands arm his neck and he slid a hand onto my lower back, pulling me close. His lips were soft and he tasted like peppermint.  
After what felt like a blissful eternity had passed, he pulled back. Briefly, I was worried that that would be the end of it, but then he pushed his door open. With a curious expression, he invited me in.


	19. Finally (smut)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya and Reid are alone in his apartment. They just kissed. What happens now?

make it last - crash adams

The first time Reid invited me into his apartment, I didn't get past the kitchen.  
Based on the way we were kissing now, I wasn't sure I was going to get any further now.  
He was so close to me, our hips pressed together. Even with my heels on he was still several inches taller than me. I liked that.

"Reid," I breathed. He pulled back and looked at me.  
"I never got to see the rest of your apartment," I said with mock nonchalance. Understanding flickered through his hazel eyes. Without a word, he placed his hands my hips and lifted me up. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist.  
"Reid!" I laughed, surprised. I was amazed at the ease with which he carried me down the hallway and into his room. Dull lights flickered on and Reid placed me on the bed. White sheets, white walls. A bookshelf that looks like it was about to explode. That's all I could register before I got distracted Reid, who was looking at me the way one might look at a Monet.   
I kicked my heels off to the side. Then, I grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled him toward me. Button by button I undid his shirt. He shrugged it off. Tangling my fingers in his hair, I drew him back onto a kiss.   
His fingers found the zipper on the back of my dress and I let it fall off me as if escaping a chrysalis. I broke the kiss for a moment to slide it all the way off.   
At this point, I decided we were unevenly naked. I pulled Reid down on the bed and climbed on top of him in just my black bra and panties.   
I undid his pants and pulled them off. He was hard. And even through his grey boxers, one thing was very apparent: he was big.   
A soft "oh my god," slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it. I flicked my gaze up to see his reaction. He looked amused. I moved up and kissed him again, as hard as I could. I had to make up for all the times I sat in the conference room imagine exactly this. It was finally happening. To be honest, I couldn't be sure I wasn't dreaming.   
With both his hands Reid. undid my bra and I sat up to take it off. He looked like he wanted to say something, but I was almost glad he didn't because the look of appreciation in his eyes was better than anything words he could've offered. He slid his hands up my body to my breasts. He moved a thumb over my nipple and looked up at me.  
The pressure against my thigh was getting harder to avoid, even if I had wanted to. As it were, I felt the hot blood in chest flood outward pleasantly from my heart as I grabbed Reid's heavy cock. His breath caught as I pumped my hand over it, up and down, up and down. He tilted his head back and I kissed his neck. My lips trailed down to the intersection of his neck and his shoulder. I sucked there, letting my teeth scrape lightly over the delicate skin.  
Reid brought his hand down to the one wrapped his him. I lifted my hips and let his guide his cock into me.  
"Spencer, oh my god." Slowly at first, I lifted myself up and then let myself sink down again. With every stroke, the pace increased. His hands gripped my hips and my chest rose and fell with every breath.  
"Fuck, Maya," Reid breathed. Wait, did he just swear? I froze the movement of my hips.  
"Did you just swear?" I asked, scandalized.  
"Really? Are you going to make this a thing? Now?" He was trying to sound annoyed but he was too cute. Grinning, I leaned over his body and kissed him.   
I broke the kiss to say something, but before I knew what was happening, Reid flipped us over so he was on top. With his hands on either side of me, he thrust deeply into me. My own hands tangled in his soft white sheets. A moan escaped my parted lips.

I didn't last much longer. Soon I could feel my thighs clenching, a mounting tightness in the pit of my stomach. I clutched Reid's back, drawing him close.   
"Fuck, Spencer. Don't stop," I begged. I caught a sly smirk and he moved faster. In the next instant, I was cuming, Reid's cock deep inside me. He wasn't far behind.

Few things, I thought to myself, were as good as watching Spencer Reid come undone. At work, he was almost always put-together and overprepared. To see him lost, moaning, over me no less, was the most attractive thing I could imagine.


	20. Pancakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

self control - frank ocean

When I woke up, he was gone.  
The bed, so ridiculously comfortable and luxurious, was empty.  
I swung my legs over the edge and grabbed me discarded underwear from last night. I pulled it on.  
Immediately, I spotted my dress, but there was no way I was wearing that home. Or my heels for the matter. I had flats in my bag, I remembered. One of those weird pairs that flooded up. And a pair of black leggings. Thank God that my purse was always over-packed for whatever occasion. But, where was it? I checked around the room, even under the bed, but then promptly remembered it was in the kitchen-living room area. I had discarded it offhandedly last night.  
Last night. Ugh. I didn't want to think about last night. God, this was going to be awkward.  
Ignore that, I told myself, Focus on the task at hand. I needed to find a shirt. I debated for a minute, then grabbed a dark blue button-up from Reid's closet.  
I walked into the kitchen and almost jumped. Reid was standing there in front of the stove. He turned around and gave me a friendly look. He was fully dressed which made me a little self-aware about the fact that I wasn't wearing any pants.  
"Are you wearing my shirt?" he asked. There was a glint in his eye I couldn't place.  
"Yeah, sorry. I'll give it back."  
"No, it's fine. I was just..." he trailed off.  
"You should keep it. It looks better on you." I curled my bare tops against his hardwood floors.  
"Thanks, but I'll definitely give it back."  
"Are you hungry? I made pancakes," he offered. Jesus, this was the nicest hookup I'd ever had. I considered declining, but I was starving.  
"Sure, thanks." I sat on a barstool at the fancy counter island. Reid placed plate stacked high with pancakes in front of me, followed by a bottle of maple syrup and a cup of coffee. I accepted gratefully.  
"I didn't know you could cook," I teased after vacuuming up the first two pancakes. They were good.  
"It's a mix," he confided. I smiled at his humbleness.  
"Still. Hey, I think I left my purse out here. Have you seen it?" I asked, pouring a generous amount of syrup on my plate.  
"Oh, yeah, it's on the couch." There was a moment in which I had absolutely no idea what to say. Every silent second that ticked away felt closer to a time that was undeniably awkward. It was Reid who broke the silence.  
"I sure am glad we don't have to work today," he said lightly.  
"Me too. Honestly, I can't believe we haven't been called in last-minute somewhere," I replied. He sipped coffee out of a black mug.  
"Remember that time Prentiss was stepped into her flight and JJ called with a case?"  
"Yeah! She was so annoyed," I recalled.  
We slid into conversation so easily that by the time I'd finished my pancakes I realized from the clock on the microwave that I'd been in the kitchen for almost twenty minutes, far longer than I had planned.  
"Where's your bathroom?" I asked.  
"On the left," he said and gestured to the hallway from which I'd come.  
"Thanks."  
I grabbed my purse off the couch and walked into the bathroom, nervous to see what I looked like. The bathroom itself was aesthetically pleasing and tidy. Reid. I shook my head at his ridiculousness. Smart, clean, cute, could cook. Screw him.  
I glanced tepidly at the mirror. My hair was a bit wild, but that was to be expected. I raked my fingers through it, unwilling to go through Reid's stuff to find a brush.  
Then I opened my bag, praying that my leggings and shoes were in there. Thankfully, they were. I even found a hair tie with which I pulled my messy locks into a high ponytail. Once I was dressed, I splashed some water on my face, wiped away any mascara that had wandered from my eyelashes, and exited the bathroom.  
I made a quick stop back in Reid's bedroom to grab my heels and tuck them in my bag. Then I returned to the kitchen.  
"Thanks for the pancakes, Spencer. I'll, uh, I'll see you," I said as I opened the front door. Reid looked a little startled that I was leaving so suddenly, but I was pretty sure I had already overstayed my welcome.  
"No problem. I'll see you," he returned.

I took a taxi home.  
Back at my own apartment, in the shower, I tried in vain to reflect on what had happened in the last twenty-four hours. I couldn't really believe it; it felt like remembering a dream. Hot water streamed out of the shower faucet, calming me.  
We weren't drunk, I was sure of that. I knew Reid was a lightweight, but one beer over a couple of hours was not enough to get almost anyone tipsy. So he must've wanted me, at least enough to make him kiss me on his doorstep. I smiled a small smile to myself at the thought. I wasn't stupid. I knew Reid wasn't the most socially adept of all time, maybe not classically handsome the way Morgan or Hotch were. But Reid had a nerdy fan base many of which threw themselves at him at any possible opportunity. I had seen some of the messages they sent him. And I said nerdy loving, fully aware that I was included under that label. And yet, Reid chose me. At least for one night. I ran my fingers through my hair.  
Meekly, I tried to regret what had happened. Logically, I knew I should; sleeping with a coworker was an obvious mistake. But as I slid my sudsy hands over my body in the shower, I kept remembering Reid's hands on me, how good it has felt, how right. I heard the way he had said my name, so shameless. I shouldn't have surprised. Every time he around he made me lose my self-control.  
What was I supposed to do now? Were we just going to pretend nothing happened?  
I slid down to a sit in in my shower, let the water scour my back. Water ran down my face and I couldn't be entirely sure whether it was the shower.  
After a while, I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a dark grey towel around me.  
Oh well, I thought to myself, at least I got him out of my system. It was a one-time thing. Now, hopefully, I could go to work without being constantly distracted by this stupid crush.


	21. Cold as Ice (smut, fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The BAU is on a new case and things are not going Maya's way. Thankfully, there's always someone ready to help.

softly - clairo

I wasn't an expert, but I was pretty sure fantasizing about sucking someone's dick in the middle of a budget presentation did not count as getting over them.  
Strauss' monotonous voice droned on while I blinked, trying to remove the thought. But my brain had a plan of their own.  
We were in Strauss's office, but in my mind, I saw myself sinking to my knees in the conference room in front of Reid. Looking up at him cockily, I unbuttoned his pants and pulled them and his underwear down in one swift motion.  
"In essence, if we don't decrease our overhead costs, I won't be able to authorize your consultancy in as many cases," I heard.  
Looking directly into his eyes, I took his hard cock into my mouth. He reached down next to him and grasped the conference table, knuckles blanched.  
"With all due respect Chief Strauss," Hotch's voice said, "We are already operating at a below optimal budget."  
"Is there no other department that can be cut from?" JJ interjected.  
In my defense, I didn't really need to be here. I wasn't really sure why I was here, other than as backup for Hotch and JJ. And maybe as a witness. JJ had even told me to let her and Hotch do the talking, which was fine by me.  
Back in my unmanageable imagination, I let my tongue slide along the bottom of his cock as I took it further into my mouth until it hit the back of my throat. Reid moaned. It was music to my ears.  
"Maya?" It was JJ.  
"Yes?" I replied obediently.  
"Can you get the team together in the conference room? Tell them we'll be there in three minutes." I said yes and gratefully escaped Strauss's dreary office.

"You made it out of the dragon's lair," Morgan remarked, clearly sharing my sentiments.  
"Lucky me. JJ and Hotch are still trapped in there. They want us in the conference room, said there'll be done soon," I told him. Then I saw Reid. I hadn't spoken to him since yesterday when I walked out of his apartment with my heels in my bag. I had thought about texting him, but I didn't know what to say. He looked up from the case file he was holding.  
"What did Strauss say?"  
"She's complaining about the budget. As usual, I explained. Oh, so it was business as usual between us. Or at least while everyone else was there.

Reid put a hand on my shoulder to stop me from leaving. It surprised me.  
"Hey, about last night," he began, voice lowered, and I froze. He let his arm fall.  
"I was just thinking," he continued in a slightly uncomfortable manner characteristic of Reid talking about sex, "Are you, uh, are you taking a contraceptive–"  
"I'm on the pill," I reassured him. He nodded. He opened his mouth to say something, but just then Morgan called after us.  
"Sherlock and Watson, you coming?"  
"Yes, Lestrade," I called back.  
"I hope you know me well enough by now to know that I won't get that reference," Morgan said when we caught up to him.  
"Inspector Lestrade. From Sherlock Holmes?" I supplied. He shook his head.  
"You know what she's talking about?" Morgan asked Reid.  
"Inspector Lestrade is a fictional character who appeared in multiple of the Sherlock Holmes stories. The name was inspired by a friend of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle from the University of Edinburgh," Reid said.  
"Of course you do, Sherlock," Morgan said, shaking his head in mild disbelief.

"It's so cold," I whined when we stepped out of the plane and into Fairbanks, Alaska.  
"It's not that cold," Prentiss said.  
"It was so hot in Virginia and now it's so cold."  
"It's like thirty-five degrees. That's warm for Fairbanks," she challenged.  
"Anything below fifty is cold," I asserted. Morgan scoffed.  
"You forget she's from California," Rossi reminded them, stepping past me on the landing pad.  
"It's only going to get colder," Reid remarked, "It's supposed to get below freezing."  
"Maybe if you dressed for the weather you wouldn't be as cold," Prentiss teased.  
"I'm wearing all the layers I have," I shot back. A tank top, followed by a long sleeve shirt, and two sweaters. And a pair of grey plaid pants, which I had even worn tights underneath. That was as good as it was going to get for my California wardrobe. I still hadn't really gone shopping since I moved here.  
"Californians," Rossi mussed playfully.

At the station, Morgan's name flashed on my phone as it buzzed. I picked up.  
"What's up?" I said into the receiver.  
"Hey, doll. There's a detective outside with Alicia Lancaster's file." That was the latest victim, a drug addict found stabbed seventeen times.  
"And you want me to grab it?"  
"Yes, ma'am."  
"I'm on it."  
"Thanks, Maya." With a beep, the call was over. I braced myself for the cold and stepped outside. I saw an occupied police car parked at the curb in front of the station. I hurried up to it.  
"Here it is," the man said with a smile, handing my a manila folder.  
"Thanks so much, detective," I said and gave a half-wave goodbye. The car sped off before I had straightened all the way up.  
I turned back and ran directly into a police officer. Unlikely for me, it wasn't just her I ran into. She was holding a big blue bucket filled to the brim with water.  
I yelped like a puppy who'd been stepped on as cold water hit me like a wall. Most of it landed on my chest, but a decent amount managed to get my legs and my shoes. It was so cold, soaking through both sweaters and every layer underneath, even dripping down my stomach. I didn't want to move, lest more of my wet clothing touch me so I stood like a scarecrow, arms slightly aloft.  
"What the hell, dude?"  
"I'm so sorry, really, I-" the woman started, but I cut her off.  
"No, sorry, it's fine. Don't worry about it." I immediately felt guilty for my reaction. Wincing, I shook my hands, sending a small shower of droplets from my fingertips of my right hand. I was still holding the case file.  
"I'm really sorry," she emphasized and scurried off back into the building. Presumably to get more water. Just then Reid poked his head out of the door and saw me.  
"What happened to you?" he asked, laughter on his lips.  
"Some lady spilled her water on me." I did not share his amused attitude.  
"Must've been a big glass," he teased, referring to the puddle.  
"It was a bucket," I grumbled, "Will you take the case file? I don't want to get it wetter." He obliged.  
"C'mon, let's get you inside. You're going to get sick."  
"Who needs a bucket of water at a police station?" I asked grumpily as I let him lead me back inside.  
"I don't know."  
"Maybe she's defrosting something."  
"I think they just use salt for that." Every time I took a step my socks squished in my shoes.  
When we were inside we took an empty conference room. I peeled off my both sweaters at the same time.  
"You're going to have to take that off too," he said, motioning at my waterlogged long sleeve, which was three shades darker than usual.  
"And wear what?" I groaned, wringing out the end of my hair.  
He slid out of his own sweater and handed it to me. It was black.  
I looked at him for a moment, a thousand incomplete thoughts running through my mind, and then took it.  
"Thanks." Without a word, he left the room so I could change, a minutely ridiculous act, I thought, after the events of two days ago.  
His sweater was soft and it smelled like him.  
Stupid, gentlemanly Reid. Stupid me, who couldn't stop thinking about him.


	22. Mackie (fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the BAU attracts attention from a local officer, much to the dismay of another team member.

10,000 emerald pools - BØRNS

"Are you wearing Reid's sweater?"  
"Hello to you too, Morgan," I sighed, walking up to him. Morgan bounced his glance from me to Reid, now just in a button-up and a tie, then back to me.  
"Why?" We were about to present the profile to the officers.  
"One of the officers spilled a bucket of water on me," I revealed. My jeans were still damp. Prentiss snorted.  
"Oh, that must have been Mackie," the police chief said, "She was getting water to clean some graffiti off the side of the station."  
"Graffiti?" Hotch asked in his normal stern tone, but metaphorically I could see his ears perk up.  
"Yeah, a couple of hours ago. On the side of the building."  
"What did it say?" Prentiss asked.  
"I don't quite remember. Let's see... Mackie, Mackie come over here," the chief said, directing the last part to a familiar face.  
Mackie walked over, looking sheepish when she made eye contact with me.  
"Hey, I'm really sorry about that earlier. With the water," she said. She was kind of cute: dark complexion, neat hair, pretty eyes.  
"It's really fine, I promise," I told him. Reid stepped closer to me, arms crossed. He didn't look quite as forgiving.  
"What did the graffiti on the side of the station say, Mackie?" the chief asked.  
"Uh, let me check." She pulled something up on her phone.  
"Did you take a photo?" Reid asked, interest piqued.  
"Yeah. I thought it was strange." She showed it to him.  
"That was a smart move," Morgan told her.  
"Through me you enter into the city of woes," he read.  
"Dante's Inferno," I said. He nodded.  
"It's got to be our unsub," Prentiss said, "There's no way we've got two 14th-century-literature-obsessed delinquents in the same town." Reid handed me the phone.  
"This is an escalation, though," I pointed out.  
"Why's that?" the chief asked.  
"Well, this quote references the inscription on the gates of hell. That and he wrote in on the police station, which is decidedly bold." I gave the phone back to Officer Mackie.  
"It might indicate a dislike of the police force if he's comparing it to hell. Do you have any disgruntled employees or ex-employees?" Reid asked.  
"Sure, I'll put together a list."  
"Do you want the photo? I can text it to you," Mackie said to Reid. Was it just me or was she a little eager?  
"Sure," he said, lost in concentration.  
"What's your number?" she asked. I bristled.  
"If it's a police officer, could that be the connection between the victims? Maybe they were all worked on my the same person." Prentiss suggested.  
"Have Garcia check it out," Hotch instructed. Morgan pulled out his phone and called her. I didn't take my eyes off of Mackie who was typing Reid's number into her phone.  
"Alright, let's deliver the profile."

By the next day, we had already found our unsub. I stood in the station waiting for Rossi to get the guy to admit to his crimes.  
"Really, already?" I asked Prentiss as she approached me before she could deliver the news.  
"Yep, it's got to be a new record. What was that, four minutes?" she marveled. I leaned against a file cabinet swirled the dregs of police-station coffee.  
"I didn't expect him to confess that quickly."  
"Rossi's good. Played to his ego. Don't tell Rossi I said that," Prentiss said.  
"I guess, our work is done. We can finally get back to temperatures above freezing."  
"You're such a baby," she laughed.  
"I'm having a week. I had a headache when I woke up on Monday. My car barely started on the way to the office. And now, I got a bucket of ice-cold water thrown on me. Outside. In Alaska. In one of the coldest cities in the U.S., I need a hot shower."  
"That's fair. I could use one myself, to be honest. I'm going to go tell JJ."  
Just then, Reid walked up from behind her, filling the space where Prentiss had been standing.  
"He confessed?" Reid asked. I nodded my confirmation.  
"Good." He started to say something, but just as he did Officer Mackie interjected herself.  
"I heard you got the guy already," she said, directing her comments entirely at Reid, "That's pretty amazing."  
"It's not too hard with unsubs like this. They're so desperate for recognition that they can't wait to tell us what they've done," Reid replied. Always so humble. And matter-of-fact.  
"Wow," she said. She fluttered her eyelashes. I was beginning to feel that three was a crowd.  
"I guess you see the worst of humanity. Does it ever get to you? Seeing all that violence?" She was completely ignoring me. It was almost comical, except for the fact that it kind of me want to punch her in the face for some reason.  
"Um, sometimes," Reid said. He shifted hills weight from one foot to the other.  
"And even towards kids. What makes someone like that?" she continued.  
"I'm going to go start packing up," I said as politely as I could manage and tried to excuse myself.  
"Oh, wait, Maya, I needed to talk to you about something," Reid said before I could make my escape. Uh oh. What did that mean?  
"Okay, um," I started.  
"We can talk in the conference room. So we can clean up," he supplied. He took a step in that direction. Mackie, who was still standing there, looked rather disappointed.  
"It was nice meeting you," I said to her. Reid turned back as if he had forgotten she was ever there.  
"Thank you for your help," he added.  
"No problem."  
I followed Reid into the conference room.  
"What did you want to talk to me about?" I asked when he didn't immediately say anything.  
"What? Oh, I just didn't want to answer her questions." I let out a beat I hadn't registered holding, followed by a laugh.  
"Wow, Dr. Reid. That was cold," I joked. I began taking down the evidence boards.  
"I know. I hope I want too rude," he said, serious.

"That Mackie chick seemed pretty into you," Morgan remarked on the jet home. Reid and I were sitting together as per usual and Morgan took the seat across the aisle.  
"Who?" he asked.  
"The police officer who gave David an impromptu shower?" Morgan pressed.  
"Oh, yeah. She keeps texting me," Reid said as if puzzled why anyone would do such a thing.  
"Cause she's into you." I stayed silent. I thought Morgan was right and I was secretly gratified to have someone second my suspicions about Mackie's eagerness to help Reid.  
"Oh," Reid said simply.  
"You going to do anything about it?" Morgan asked, clearly unfulfilled by Reid's curt response.  
"No."  
"Is it because–"  
"Shut it, Morgan," Reid said, sharply. Morgan smirked.  
"Because what?" I asked.  
"Nothing," they both said at the same time, Reid with the nervousness of a secret, Morgan with the satisfaction of information.


	23. Hands (smut)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day was long, but it isn't over yet. How many times in one day can Reid save Maya?

go to town - doja cat

"No, no, no, no, no," I muttered to myself, sitting in the driver seat of my car. The engine stirred to life and then choked for the third time.   
"Cmon!" I implored. My Toyota Camry did not budge.  
"Stupid used car."   
A tapping on my window startled me. It was Reid. Of course. It was always Reid whenever I got in trouble. He probably thought I was as helpless as an infant. I rolled down the window.  
"You okay?" That's all he ever said to me nowadays.  
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's this piece of crap that's having a hard time. I think the fuel pump is faulty. I meant to have it checked out," I said. Reid nodded, but I suspected he had no idea what I was talking about. Cars weren't really his thing.  
"How are you going to get home?" he asked. His go bag was slung over his shoulder and the keys to his car were in the other hand.   
"I'll just take a taxi," I said, "I'll send a mechanic over to take a look tomorrow."  
"Don't take a taxi. I'll give you a ride."   
"Oh, you don't have to do that," I said, the slightest blush coloring my cheeks. It was probably too dark for him to see. At least, that's what I told myself.   
He titled his head to the side and considered me. That thoughtful gaze always melted my resolve.  
"It's really no problem," he insisted, "Cmon. You can text Hotch so he's not worried when he sees your empty car when he leaves." With that, I caved and grabbed my stuff.

We made small talk on the ride over. About the case. The weather, much warmer in Virginia than Alaska. Then Reid pulled the car smoothly into a parking space in front of my apartment.  
"Thanks," I said. I pulled on the car handle and it clicked, but I didn't push the door open. I didn't know I was going to say what I was going to say next until I said it. The smallest amount of adrenaline made my heart beat loudly, so loudly that I almost thought I said what I said just to cover the noise, just so Reid wouldn't hear the sound of my insolent heart thumping at three times it's normal volume.  
"Do you want to come in?" I asked.   
"It's late. I wouldn't want to bother you."  
"It wouldn't," I replied, too quickly.  
"Just, um... Only if you want to. You could get your shirt. And I can give you your sweater back, just as soon as I change," I continued. God, it felt like it was a hundred degrees. Maybe all the warm weather recently was just an invention of my imagination caused by spending too much time thinking about Reid.  
"Okay," he said simply.  
"Okay," I returned. I pushed the passenger side door open, took my bag and made my way up the steps to my apartment. I didn't look back; I knew Reid was only a step behind me.   
It took a second for the lights to flicker on, the electrical in my apartment had always been subpar. I set my bag down by the door. Reid has left his stuff in his car.  
"So, uh, this is where I live." I felt like a teenager on an awkward date with the hottest guy in school. Reid looked fine. He glanced around my living room appreciatively. Meanwhile, I was panicking. Not full-on panicking. Just a little panicking. The tension was a thick cord at my ankles, threatening to trip me at any moment.  
"It's very nice," Reid said.  
"Yeah, it's pretty-"   
He cut me off with a kiss.   
Deep, passionate. Every second of the kiss made me want a minute more. I felt like a drowning man coming up for air. Only I hadn't realized I was drowning until Reid put his lips to mine, filling my lungs air while simultaneously taking my breath away.  
This shouldn't be happening, I thought to myself, this is a mistake. But I couldn't pull away.  
Not for several minutes, at least. When I did it was only to take his hand and lead him to my bedroom.   
With a look and a coy smile, I invited him to sit my bed. It wasn't as nice as Reid's, it wasn't as big, but the sheets were just as white and it was plenty comfortable. From beside him, I grabbed his tie and pulled him into a kiss. His hands gently held my face as I slid my tongue in his mouth and let him do the same. Then one of his hands dropped to find my lower back, to pull me onto his lap, straddling him. My fingers tangled behind his neck.   
As he kissed me, I felt the walls of my bedroom, my apartment, the rest of the world, fall away. All I could think about, all I wanted to feel, for that matter, was him.  
I returned my attention to his tie, this time with the intent of removing it. He let me but countered by taking off my sweater.   
His sweater, really. His hands ran over   
He kissed my neck, then down my chest and to the spot right about the button of my blue jeans. Then my jeans came off.   
My hands on his hands, his hand on my hips.   
He kissed a path up the inside of my thigh, sucking lightly at the pulse point there.   
His tongue ran over my clit and a moan escaped me. My hands let go of his and I ran my fingers through his hair and held tight.  
"Reid, oh my god. Spencer," I spilled, not caring about how much of a mess I sounded. It was my apartment. The walls were thick, and I'd make as much noise as I wanted to.   
He pushed two fingers inside of me, pumping them in and out. My blood rushes through my veins, steadily filling a well in the pit of my stomach until it overflowed.  
Shuddering and tightening around his fingers, I clutched the sheets as I came.  
He gave me a lofty half-smile as I fought to catch my breath. His lips returned to my neck, sucking on the skin above my collarbone.   
"Spencer," I got out between breaths, "Take your pants off."  
They were discarded somewhere on the floor, which could've been for all I cared; everything that wasn't the feeling of Reid's skin on mine was eons away and utterly irrelevant.   
When Reid pushed into me we both moaned in harmony. My back arched with pleasure as he drew back and thrust into me again. It was bliss.  
When I'd finished sorting through paperwork, I'd never imagined that I'd be coming home to two orgasms. But as Reid moved in and out of me, effortlessly hitting the perfect spot deep inside me, I felt the tension in my stomach building again. His movement became less fluid, his hips stuttering. He brushed my over-sensitive clit and I came again, babbling everything from curse words to lamentations to God. I wanted him to be as close to me as physically possible, every inch of his skin on mine. Wherever we touched it was like being apart hurt, and I'd only realized it with the relief of our connection  
"Spencer," I whispered, and at that moment I felt him come deep inside of me.


	24. Casual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after. Again.

god in jeans - ryan beatty

Filtered sunlight warmed my face. My bed, so cozy, was a haven from the world. I knew as soon as I opened my eyes and stood up I'd have to deal with a hundred things. Bills. Cases. Feelings. I kept my eyes shut.  
More comforting than the sun was the weight on my mattress beside me. Reid's leg was pressed against mine. I felt strangely safe, much safer than when we had just locked up a killer. But all good dreams have to end, and so Reid shifted behind me, waking up.  
"Maya? You awake?" I opened my eyes.  
"Yeah." I turned toward him. Suddenly, I became very conscious of the fact that I was still naked. Reid has tugged on his boxers. How he managed to find them I had no idea.  
"Um," I said. I'm going to go take a shower. Where's your bathroom?"  
"Down and to the left." He nodded. His hair was such a mess I had to smile.   
When he had left the room I scrounged to find my underwear, which was strewn across the floor. Then I pulled on a big, black t-shirt and some boy shorts and headed to the kitchen to start the coffee maker.

"This keeps happening to us," Reid commented when he emerged into the kitchen. He was dressed in the same clothes he had been wearing the night before.   
"Yeah," I said softly. I handed him a mug of coffee which he accepted gratefully.   
"Sorry, it's not French press." He chuckled. For a few minutes, we drank our coffee in silence.   
"Do we need to talk about this?" he asked finally.  
"What's to talk about?"  
"I'm not sure." He bit his lip and my heartbeat picked up for the hundredth time in twenty-four hours.  
"Look," I said, swirling my coffee, "It's fine. I'm not going to bring it up in the office or anything."  
"I didn't think you would." There was a hint of a smile in his voice. But I couldn't see it. I was busy watching the tornado of coffee in my mug. "We can keep it casual," I said, after a beat. Clearly, there was nothing more here, not for him.  
"Is that what you want?" he asked, a little subdued.  
"Isn't that what you want?" Who could blame him? He probably just saw me as a rookie obsessed with his research, throwing herself at him. Reid was far too kind to ever say that, particularly using those words, but I want an idealistic. There wasn't much room for idealists in our line of work.  
"Ok," he said, "I guess I'd better get going then." He went to get his jacket.  
"You don't have to go," I said and immediately regretted it. So clingy. He just made it clear he didn't want anything to do with me than sex. He paused.  
"I... I have some errands to run." Yikes.   
"Yeah. Okay. Um, have fun. I guess." He flashed me a small smile.   
"I'll see you around," he said, but it sounded more like a question.  
"Yeah." He set the mug down on the counter and grabbed his jacket.  
"Thanks for the coffee." He paused again.   
"Is it weird if I say I had a good time last night?" Now it was my turn to smile.  
"A little," I said. He nodded and step toward the door.  
"Wait!" I called as he pulled the door open.  
"Your clothes," I said.  
"I got them." He lifted the bundle of jacket to indicate that he had them in there.  
"I had a good time too, Spencer," I said before he could turn away again."  
He looked back at me with something in his eyes I couldn't place, swallowed, and walked out the front door.

At least we always timed it with a day off, I mused silently once he was gone. I was free to do whatever I wanted, almost. I wandered around the house tidying this absently and trying to convince my relentless brain to deviate in subject matter at least one inch from Spencer Reid. Around three o'clock my phone buzzed and my heart jumped a foot in my chest. When I picked it up, however, it wasn't Reid's name on the screen.

Max: Hey, it's your day off, right? Wanna grab some dinner?

My fingers hovered above the screen. I'd met Max, my friend from college, for coffee a while ago. We'd had fun reminiscing about the old days and promised to meet up again, but I had forgotten about with all the commotion of the last week. I wasn't sure I was up to leaving my apartment in the next twelve hours.

Max: Your place? Pizza and a movie?

That settled it.

Me: Sure! 7:00?  
Max: I'll bring popcorn.


	25. Aiko

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Max and Maya to have a chat.

she's in the rain - the rose

By the time I showered, got dressed in a grey t-shirt and black leggings, responded to at least fifty work emails, and packed my go-bag for the next day, it was 6:50. I decided to order the pizza.

Just as I hung up on the pizza parlor, my doorbell rang.

"Max!" I pulled my front door open.

"Maya!"

"It's so great to see you!"

"I know," he said with a smile and handed me a box of microwaveable popcorn.

"How's the job?" I asked. He had moved out here to consult on an advertising project and to his surprise been offered a permanent position. He'd started a week after I saw him last.

"It's pretty good, actually," he said. The so-called "living room" area in my apartment wasn't very large, but it held a very comfortable couch, upon which Max plopped as if at home. That was one of the things I loved about him. He was so devoid of affect, so casual and genuine that it was easy to talk to him. Even now, after college, I felt like we were just grabbing some food after a class, ready to bitch about the professor.

"Turns out the last guy who did my job was horrible, so they were overjoyed when I actually made a proposal for the new project," he said. I laughed at the thought.

"Pick a movie," I instructed and handed him the TV remote.

"Wow, big girl, you actually got your own Netflix account?" he asked, clicking the on button.

"Nope, still using Juliet's," I confided.

"No way. Me too!"

"I'm sure Eliza's using it too," I quipped. We exploded into laughter that didn't subside for a long, long time. Each time we tried to calm down, we'd be reduced to giggles again when either one of us mentioned a story from college. Despite the laughter, I managed to get the popcorn ready and handed it to Max.

"So what are we watching?" I asked when I'd finally regained my breath.

"This," he said, motioning to the screen with the remote. It was a movie we'd seen in theaters during college at two a.m., half drunk. Max shot me a smirk that told me he remembered. God, it was good to have a day off. No serial killers, arsonists, kidnappers.

Naturally, just as he pressed play, my phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.

"Fuck, just wait one sec," I told Max. He paused it.

"No problem, True Detective." Please, please, let it not be JJ pulling us into a new case, I thought.

I picked up my phone. An unknown number had texted me. As I typed in the password, the screen flickered like it was glitching.

"What the hell?" I muttered to myself, but it was gone as quickly as it had begun. I tapped the Message app.

Unknown: I'm here with your pizza. I can't find the doorbell.

I rushed to the door and peeked through the hole. Sure enough, a man with scraggly brown hair was standing outside holding a pizza box. I open the door.

"Sorry, the doorbell is kind of hard to find," I said. He smiled sheepishly. Even Max had just knocked. I paid him and waved before returning inside with the pizza.

"Turn the movie on!" I commanded and lifted a slice out of the box.

"Yes, ma'am."

By the time the movie was over, all six slices of the ten-inch pizza where gone, mostly courtesy of Max.

"So, how's it going with whats-his-face?" Max asked.

"Ah, yes, whats-his-face," I joked.

"Cmon, the triple doctor guy." Max made a vague gesture as he tried to recall the name.

"I forgot I told you about him," I said. I had only mentioned him briefly when Max and I had met last time.

"Mind like a steel trap," he teased, "So what's up with you and him?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on. Your face lit up when you talked about him," Max said emphatically.

"I said like three words about him."

"Still."

"We may have... I..." I struggled with whether to tell him.

"Spit it out, Davis."

"We slept together. Twice."

"Wow. Okay. I thought you just had a crush on him."

"I do," I confessed, "It's just casual, or whatever."

"Honestly, I didn't think he'd be the type for friends with benefits," I mused.

"Me neither, from the way you described him. Is that what you want?" Max raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, why not?" I shrugged.

"I don't know. It sounds like you really like him." I didn't say anything. I felt a foreign hand grip my lungs and keep them from expanding all the way.

"Maya, you okay?" He put a hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah. I just..."—I took a deep breath—"I do like him, you know, a lot. I just wish it wasn't like this."

"So ask him out." Max looked concerned. He took his hand off my shoulder and crossed his arms. I sighed.

"We can't date. We're on the same team. And he doesn't want that." All of a sudden my eyes welled up. I didn't know what had come over me, so I just blinked until I could see clearly again.

"Did he say that?"

"It was implied." Max gave me a look.

"Maya, don't take this the wrong way, but I don't know if this is a good idea." I just bit my lip.

"You're going to get your heart broken in two pieces." He was right, unfortunately.

"Pass the popcorn," he said. I did.

"What do I do?" I complained.

"How long have you liked this guy?"

"Like six months," I groaned and put my head on the table dramatically.

"Don't pull an Aiko," Max cautioned through a mouthful of popcorn. I stole the bowl back.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Aiko, from college. She was in love with you for like two years but she didn't say anything."

"Shut up! She was not in love with me." I threw a piece of popcorn at his face and hit him on the cheek. He picked it up off his lap and ate it.

"She sure was. But she was so happy just to be hooking up with you that she didn't say anything." I blinked.

"No way." I threw another kernel, which Max managed to catch in his mouth.

"Yep. She'd never shut up about it when you were gone. It drove me and Eliza crazy."

"She should've told me!"

"Are you going to tell Reid?"

"That's different," I said indignantly. He looked at me the way you look at a child covered in paint when they say it was the dog who drew on the walls.

"Is it?"

"Shut up!" I leaned back in my chair and studied the ceiling.

"Oh my god," I said, more to myself than to Max.

"You have to break it off with him," Max said, resigned, "Or tell him."

"Oh. My. God," I repeated, trying to retroactively piece together signs from a past life.


	26. Falling Into You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keeping her personal and professional life separate is harder than Maya thought.

blinding lights - the weeknd

Every time Reid and I were apart it felt like we were in a whirlpool, a tornado, riding the edges until we spiraled down into each other again. On opposite sides, but we both knew we'd meet one another again at the eye of the storm.

Every time I caught his glances I felt a warmth spill over my shoulders and down my back like a waterfall. The slightest touch when passing a case file or a cup of coffee was overstimulating. It was getting ridiculous, as I told myself on a constant basis. But I was getting progressively antsier every day I didn't feel his hands on me.

"The unsub does not live in that area," I repeated to Reid, exasperated.

"It's the geographic profile," Reid insisted. We were in a station in Delaware. It was the third day of the case. Third day since Reid had left my kitchen to run errands.

"He's killing these upper-class women because he resented them. He's not a part of that community," I countered. Reid looked at me like I was stupid. God, I hated it when he did that.

"But he has some interaction with them. He's likely a blue-collar employee who worked for them." I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at him. In the background, Prentiss and Morgan exchanged looks.

"That doesn't mean he lives in the area. He probably can't afford it. Besides, you're not taking into account his other victims that we haven't identified yet." I leaned back in my chair.

"But—"

"Oh my god, will you two just hook up already?" Morgan interrupted. Prentiss poorly suppressed laughter.

"Shut up, Morgan," I shot back rather lamely. Reid turned bright red. Little did Morgan know that's exactly what had got us into this. Every time I got with Reid was like releasing a breath I'd been holding for days. And then after I was on edge until the next time. And today I was taking it out on him.

"Davis is right," Hotch said calmly (Ha!), "He won't live in the same district where the victims were found. But he probably works within the geographic profile that Reid identified. Have Garcia check construction workers, cleaners, and other blue-collar jobs within that radius." Morgan nodded and called Garcia.

I looked at Reid smugly. He ignored me. Ouch.

"Reid and I will check out the latest crime scene, see if we can find anything that builds the profile," Hotch said. He turned to Reid and said "We'll leave in five. I need to talk to the chief."

I managed to catch Reid alone when he went to review the latest case file before taking off with Hotch.

"Hey, sorry about that," I told him, referring to our skirmish. God, it was so pathetic, but I didn't want him to be mad at me. He flipped through the Manila folder and stopped at the police report.

"It's fine," he said, collected. Then he looked up and saw my pleading expression.

"You were right anyway," he added, softening considerably.

"But I was being an ass." He smirked slightly, not about to correct me.

"I'm just frustrated. It's been three days"—I could see gears turning in his brain—"on this case. I'm just ready to go home, you know?" He nodded. I swear I saw his eyes darken as he realized what I was talking about.

"Does the police report say anything?" I asked, trying to break the tension. His eyes didn't move from mine. Gently, he set down the file.

"Not really." He paused.

"I, um. Will you come with me for a second?" he asked. Before I could do more than raise an eyebrow, he pulled me into an empty, dimly lit conference room on the side of the station. Without hesitation, he locked the door behind him and turned the shades so no one could see in. Then he kissed me.

Holy shit, I thought to myself, that escalated quickly. Wordlessly, he lifted me up and sat me on the grey conference table. My hands tugged on his shirt slipped under his slid down to my lower back. I kissed him with urgency until I could barely breathe.

There was a knock at the door. Reid and I both pulled back. Eyes wide, I quickly hopped off the table and opened the door just a foot. A local detective was standing outside with a questioning look on his face.

"Oh, sorry," he said, "I was just looking for Detective Lopez."

"I haven't seen him, sorry," I said with a smile. Please go away, I thought over and over like a prayer. I hoped he couldn't see Reid in the background, tucking in his shirt.

"Well... Thanks," the detective said and walked away. I closed the door and spun around. Reid glanced up and met my eyes. I opened my mouth to say something, but I just started laughing. Reid bit his lip, but within seconds he had a smile on his face. It was just absurd.

"We better get back," I said through giggles. He nodded.

"Wait," I said, "Your hair is a mess."

"It's always a mess." He wasn't wrong, but nonetheless I tried my best to fix it.

"Okay, you're good," I told him. He looked at me with his head tilted to the side and I melted. He was dangerous. Before I could say or do anything stupid, I walked out.

"Are you okay?" I asked Reid on the plane ride home. He was sitting at the table on the jet and looked like he had was discovered his entire life was a lie.

"I never lose," he muttered to himself, not taking his eyes off the deck of cards in front of him. Morgan, who was peering over the seat, provided clarification.

"He just lost to Emily. Big time."

"Really?"

"Yup." I laughed but stopped when I saw Reid's dismayed expression. Morgan patted him firmly on the shoulder over the seat and turned back to whatever he was doing. I sat across from Reid at the table.

"You going to be okay?" I asked, only half-joking.

"Yeah, yeah," he shook his head, "It's just. She pulled three cards to- Without- That's a 97:1 probability."

"Well, you have to get the statistically improbable result every once in a while." He nodded, clearly still deep in thought.

"C'mon," I implored, "Just accept it. You know you're going to drive yourself crazy thinking about it." I leaned forward and took this deck into my hands.

"It's late. Maybe you were distracted." He lifted his head and looked directly into my eyes, then my lips.

"I was." The shadow of a smirk on his face sent shivers down my back.

"How long is it until we land?" he asked. His eyes didn't leave my lips.

"Um, twenty minutes?" Under the table my leg bounced of its own accord, immediately impatient.

"See y'all tomorrow!" I called to the team before leaving for the night. The nights were still weirdly hot for Quantico. I caught sight of Reid, who walked out a few seconds after I did.

"Hey," he said, to which I replied with the same.

"Your place or mine?" Coming from anyone else it would be the cheesiest line but Reid's genuine tone made me smile.

"Yours?"

"I'll see you there."


	27. Ghostbusters (fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who hasn't seen Ghostbusters?

fool - cavetown

The one good thing about having a case in D.C. was that the ride home was a short one. We were back in the bullpen before I knew it, tidying our desks and saying our departing salutations. If only the case would leave my mind as quickly as we left, I mused. One random girl in her twenties disappearing every five days. The killer had gotten away with it for almost three weeks before we had found our unsub, Joshua Zapel, an out-of-work handyman.

"There's something bugging me about this case," Reid said. He was standing beside my desk. Though his words were directed at me, his eyes studied a police report with unwavering intensity.

"You want to come over? We can look at it again," I offered. It took everything I had to keep my tone calm, especially since JJ was standing within eavesdropping distance. The was no reason he couldn't come over; we were just a couple of work friends looking into a case. Nothing to see here.

"Yeah, sure," he replied, nonchalant.

"I'll see you there," I said with a smile.

"If your car starts," he deadpanned. I laughed.

Thankfully, my car did start. I even beat Reid back home, so I had enough time to kick off my shoes and toss my keys on the counter before the doorbell rang. I pulled the door open to find Reid standing there sheepishly. Grabbing him by the arm I pulled him inside. 

An hour later we were sat on the couch, a halo of papers surrounding us. We weren't getting anywhere.

"I don't see anything wrong," I told Reid. We had looked through everything: photos, statements, forensic reports. Everything led back to Joshua Zapel. They had even found the DNA of two of the victims in Zapel's car. The only thing that was missing was the place where he took his victims for the five days before he killed them and dumped their body in some ill-lit alley.

"We profiled he would confess. He would want the credit. Either it's not Zapel..." He trailed off and scribbled something on a piece.

"Or what?"

"I don't know," he said, but I could tell there was something he wasn't saying. I glanced at the paper. On it were the names of the three girls found dead courtesy of the unsub.

Alison Price. Twenty-four, a hairdresser who had just passed the bar six months ago.

Maya Reyes. Twenty-six, a chef at a high-end restaurant in downtown D.C.

Jennifer Nguyen. Twenty-four, an intern at a big advertising agency, engaged.

I cringed every time I saw that last name. I had known a Jen Nguyen when I was in middle school back in California. I hadn't seen her in at least ten years. I wondered what she was up to.

"Or what?" I repeated, softly. I read and reread the names. Four random girls. A stroke of fate had ended their lives.

"Or he's got something else planned. Maybe even something bigger. Based on the current social fragility of this area, it could cause mass hysteria," Reid said. He finally looked up at me. Taking a deep breath, I looked at him, pushing the names from my mind. There was no use dwelling on what was lost. The case was closed.

"Dogs and cats, living together?" I quoted lightly.

"What?" He obviously didn't get the reference.

"'Dogs and cats, living together. Mass hysteria.' It's from Ghostbusters," I clarified. He looked at me like I was speaking Zulu.

"What's that?" he asked.

"It's a movie. Set in New York?" I said, twisting a lock of my hair, "Some guys figure out how to trap ghosts and they go around saving people. The Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man makes an appearance."

"I've definitely never seen that before," Reid stated. I stared at him.

"How can you have not seen Ghostbusters? It came out in 1984. Everyone's seen Ghostbusters."

"Not me." One side of his mouth tugged upward. Obviously, he enjoyed my astonishment, but I was not having it.

"You're ridiculous. We're watching this right now," I said decidedly.

"We are?"

"Yes." He laughed but piled up the papers littering the couch. I scooched closer to him and marveled how just a few days ago Max and I had been sitting in almost exactly the same places. It was different, of course, with Spencer: I never had the urge to kiss Max, but there was still a feeling of closeness and I realized for the first time that I knew Reid. And, for the most part, and he knew me. We weren't strangers having sex. We were best friends with benefits. The was no way this was going to end well. But as the first scene of the movie started playing I couldn't bother looking into the grim future. I just leaned against Reid, the same way I would on the jet, and watched the movie.

It was fun watching with Reid. He'd make little observations about the playability of various elements of the movie while I jokingly compared different characters to members of the BAU team. We laughed so much my chest ached by the time the credits paraded lazily down the screen.

"I should get home," Reid said when the T.V. blinked off with a click.

"It's late. You can sleep here if you want," I said. I was already yawning. Reid made an attempt to protest, but I was insistent.

"I'll take the couch, then," he said. I laughed.

"Spencer, we can both sleep in my bed. It's big enough." And, I added as a mental afterthought, it certainly wouldn't be the first time we'd slept in the same bed.

"I still can't believe you hadn't heard of Ghostbusters. Next you're going to tell me you don't who the Beatles are. Or Elton John," I said. My eyelids were heavy.

"I know the Beatles," Reid mumbled.

"What about Elton John?"

"Who's that?"

"A singer. He does 'Rocketman,' you know?" I sung the chorus lazily.

"Oh, I've heard that." We sat in silence for a moment. I wondered what he was thinking. I wondered what I was thinking.

"I'm about to pass out, so I'm going to brush my teeth," I said and disappeared into the bathroom. Once I was done, I retired to my bedroom, changed into a big shirt, and slipped off my pants. Just when I thought Reid has taken the couch after all, he appeared in the doorway. Wordlessly, he slipped under the covers on the other side of the bed.

"Goodnight, Maya," Reid said quietly.

"Night, Spencer," I whispered back.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after feels different now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!   
> Despite quarantine, I've actually been super busy which is why it's been a while since I've updated. Thank you so much to everyone who's been leaving comments (about anything) and kudos. It means so much to me!!  
> I hope y'all enjoy the rest of the book! Stay safe and healthy!

all i ask - adele

For as long as I lived, no sound would ever inspire within me the same utter loathing as that of my morning alarm. Every time it shrieked me awake my blood curdled. I pried my eyes open long enough to grab my phone and turn off the alarm, then I put it back in the bedside table. I stared at the ceiling, unwilling and possibly unable to get up, but my mindless internal dialogue was interrupted by another noise from my phone. Goddamn technology. Without adjusting my gaze I grabbed my phone again. This time it was a phone call. From JJ. Quickly, I picked up.

"Hey, JJ, what's up?" I asked. Beside me, Reid perked his head up. His hair was all over the place. The familiar voice told me there was a pressing case and that that morning's meeting had been moved up by an hour. Typical.

"New case?" I asked.

"No, it's the same unsub in D.C. Looks like Zapel wasn't our man after all," she said wearily. Jesus.

"Okay, we'll see you at the office," I said, trying to blink the sleep out of my eyes.

"We?" JJ asked. Yikes.

"Me. Just me. I'll see you there," I corrected quickly. Probably a little too quickly. I stood up and arched my back, trying to coax blood into my extremities and into my lethargic brain.

"D.C.'s killer is back. We've got to be there an hour early," I told Spencer. You want breakfast? I have... I don't know. Cereal, maybe." He let out a light chuckle.

"I'm good."

"Suit yourself. We've got time to get there. The meeting's not for forty-five minutes." Reid's phone, on the ground next to the bed, rang loudly.

"That'll be JJ," I remarked. Spencer picked up and said, "Hey, JJ," just to prove my point. Leaving him to talk to her, I wandered into the kitchen. I didn't heed my own breakfast advice, opting inside to grab a granola bar and chuck it in my go-bag. Not a minute later, Reid emerged.

"I always wondered what order JJ called us in," I said.

"Maya-"

"I could have predicted her calling, though. The night before I joined the BAU was my last night of real sleep," I mused, not even looking at him. I grabbed a hair tie off the kitchen counter and put my hair in a ponytail.

"Maya-"

"Is that coffee place with the neon sign open this early?"

"Maya, I'm trying to say something." I froze, took a deep breath, and turned slowly to face him.

"I think we should keep this professional. Between us," he said in a measured tone, almost rehearsed. Had he practiced this, practice telling me he didn't want me?

I couldn't think about that. I stood on the backs on the balls of my feet and pressed my lips to him. He put his hands on my waist but pulled back. Fuck, he pulled back. My breath caught.

"Maya.."

It's over, is what he was trying to say.

"I know," I said. I looked up at him. His face was sympathetic, almost pitiful. I didn't need his pity.

"One last time, okay?" I told him. I said it with a smile, though behind my ribs I felt a weird pain, like my heart was abandoning my body, dissolving into nothing. Reid didn't say anything else, so I kissed him. He kissed me back.

Some people joke that breakup sex is so good, it's worth ending a relationship for. Spencer and I weren't in a relationship, not really, so what we were doing was hardly breakup sex. But god, it was good. His hands found every inch of my skin, my chest, my waist, my thighs. I kissed him harder than I ever had before.

In one swift motion, he lifted me on the counter. I slid off my panties while he unbuttoned his pants. Moments later, he was inside me.

"Fuck, Maya," he breathed into my ear. I kissed his neck, stopping to suck on the place right above his collarbone. That would definitely leave a mark. Oh well, I thought wryly. Reid moved in strong strokes and I hooked my legs around his waist, pulling him in every time he thrust into me. With one hand he rubbed my clit in gentle circles and I moaned into his name into his neck. I arched on his cock as my orgasm shook me, my hands digging into his back. He followed soon after, mumbling incoherently.

When it was over, we separated with some awkwardness.

"I'll, uh, I'll see you at the office," I told him, which was to say goodbye. He nodded, but didn't but meet my eyes.

Great, now we had to go to work. I went into the bathroom to clean up, fix my hair. By the time I stepped out a few minutes later, he was gone. I had to get going too. Our... whatever it was had nixed any chance of me grabbing coffee before the meeting. Instead, I double-checked that I had everything (keys, phone, bag) and hopped in the car. 

I arrived at the tarmac just in time. Everyone there greeted me drowsily, Reid included, as if he hadn't seen me fifteen minutes before.

"Davis, you'll never believe it," Morgan said, "Kid Genius is wearing the same clothes as last night. And he's got a suspicious red mark on his neck. What could that indicate?"

"I don't know, Nancy Drew," I said, "He forgot to do his laundry and burning himself with his curling iron?" Prentiss, who looked like a walking zombie, let out a wry laugh. The steps up to the jet were almost in place.

"So Zapel wasn't our guy after all?" I asked, desperate for a change of subject

"No, but it turns out he was found guilty of a whole list of other crimes. He might know something," Rossi said.

"Let's just hope we get it right this time. I hate the thought of more girls dying because we locked up the dirtbag," Prentiss added.

"There's something we missed," Reid asserted in response. I caught his eye by accident and quickly looked away. The plane was ready to go and Hotch waved us on.


	29. Knew Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The not-so-new case hits Maya harder than she ever expected.

buzzcut season - lorde

"So, you going to tell us who gave you that hickey, you player?" Morgan pressed Reid on our way to the latest victim. A car cut us off and Morgan slammed the breaks, cursing under his breath.

"Cmon, Pretty Boy, spill the beans."

Spencer, who was in the backseat to my shotgun, groaned audibly. Morgan laughed.

"That's right, a gentleman never tells," Morgan said as if he was some wise and all-knowing Jedi. I was desperate to be done with this conversation, so I felt considerable relief when my phone rang.

"It's Hotch," I informed the car. Then, I picked up.

"Davis," I said, more out of habit than necessity.

"Are you on your way?" Hotch asked.

"About five minutes out," I told him. We spoke for a few more seconds, then he said we'd meet at the police station.

"Apparently, they've got an I.D. for us at the scene," I divulged to Morgan and Reid once I hung up.

"That's good," Morgan said and clicked on the radio.

"Hey Reid," I said, "Listen." I turned up the volume. The first notes of Rocketman sounded in the car.

"Elton John," he observed.

"Mhm." Morgan shot me a look, but I waved him off. I was busy making fake nice with the guy I was secretly in love who didn't want me. I didn't have time for Morgan's insinuations.

The radio intoned, "And I think it's gonna be a long, long time  
'Til touchdown brings me 'round again to find  
I'm not the man they think I am at home  
Oh no, no, no."

I didn't even like Elton John that much, I thought to myself.

"Mars ain't the kind of place to raise your kids  
In fact, it's cold as hell," I sang absently.

"Didn't know you could sing, Davis," Morgan teased.

"I can't," I replied. Past us streamed convenience stores, gas stations, dilapidated houses, like the passenger window was a T.V. screen. This wasn't the wealthy part of D.C., that was for sure. How could so much money be only blocks away from this poverty? No one our unsub was angry.

"Sounds like we need to have a karaoke night," Morgan said. I laughed at the thought.

"BAU karaoke? Suddenly I have an image of Hotch singing a Madonna song," I told him.

"I'd pay to see that," Reid chirped.

Morgan pulled the car up to the curb of the latest crime scene. We stepped out, greeted the local police, and walked up to the body. We were below an overpass. There was trash The body was covered with a sheet, but when a crime scene tech pulled it back I felt every muscle in my body tense. I couldn't move. Reid noticed.

"Maya?" he asked, "Maya, what's wrong?" I didn't answer. My spine was as stiff as a broomstick.

"Is there an I.D.?" I asked numbly. I felt like throwing up. The crime scene tech checked his notepad before he answered, but I knew the answer before he said anything.

"Eliza Lavigne." Like a curse lifted, my body yielded.

Eliza. My friend from college. One of my best friends. She had tutored me for Organic Chemistry. She had laid awake with me for hours while we complained about the RAs for our dorm. She had walked me home when she found me strung out on a park bench, beaten black and blue by my ex-boyfriend. Eliza. Max and I were talking about her days ago.

"Maya-" Reid tried again. He was saying my name an awful lot lately for someone who wanted nothing to do with me.

"Can any of you drive me to the police station?" I asked the police offers standing around the body.

"I can," a young officer said quickly. He was young. Red hair.

"Thank you," I said simply, and followed him like a dog on a leash.

"Maya, I'll come with you," Reid offered. The red-haired officer stopped in his tracks. I looked at Reid over my shoulder and shook my head.

"I'll see you when you guys get back," I said firmly.

Back at the station, I thanked the officer and walked in through the front doors perfectly composed. In fact, my face betrayed nothing as I walked past JJ, Prentiss, and Rossi into the women's bathroom. I checked to make sure I was the only one in there, which I was. Then I stepped into a stall, closed the door behind me, and cried.

Eliza. How did this happen? I didn't even know she was in the area. Silent tears flew freely down my face as I stared at the tile wall in front of me. Eliza's pallid face hung in my mind. Maybe I wasn't cut out for this job. Oh fuck, I had to tell Max. Jesus, how was I supposed to do that.

The door of the bathroom opened, manning me jump. I used the sleeves of my sweater to dry my eyes and tried to remain still.

"Maya?" Prentiss asked.

Well, no use hiding now. I opened the door and stepped out of the stall.

"Morgan texted us. What happened?"

"I knew her." Past tense. Prentiss' brow furrowed as she made sense of my words.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry." All I could do was nod solemnly.

"Do you need to go home?" Emily asked. I almost laughed.

"I don't think I could if I tried." I drew a shaky breath and observed the expansive mirror that hung above the sinks. There, in front of the white tile walls and grey stall doors was me. At least my eyes didn't look too red.

"Hotch will keep you out of the field," Emily warned.

"Fine by me."

"Okay. You better go out there. Reid is worried sick," she said.

"Reid's here?"

"He got here two minutes after you did." I suppressed the ride to roll my eyes.

"And Morgan?"

"Still checking out the scene. He'll be back soon," she explained. I was glad. I was going to catch this bastard if it was my last action on Earth.


	30. Missing Link

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya goes to the aid of a friend.

crash - ryan beatty

"I'm convinced the unsub is organized," Emily declared. We were all gathered around a conference room in the D.C. police station. Rossi, Reid, JJ were sitting, Prentiss, Morgan, and Hotch were standing. I leaned against the table rubbing my arms in the surprising chill of the conference room. I'd left my jacket at the hotel and the cardigan I was wearing was useless. All of us were staring at the evidence boards.

"It would explain why he keeps them for so long. Most unorganized killers don't keep their victims for five days," I said.

"But we can't find any connection between the victims. Different races, socioeconomic conditions. They seem completely random," Morgan pointed out.

"Are were sure about that? There could be something we're missing," Rossi said.

"They were all roughly the same age until the last..." Reid glanced at me and I swallowed hard.

"Twenty four to thirty is a pretty big jump, particularly given that his previous victims were within two years of each other," Reid finished. That's right. I had almost forgotten that she was two years ahead of me in college, a junior to my freshman.

"Davis, can you think of anything that might tie Eliza to the others," Rossi asked me. It didn't skip past me, how he avoided saying 'victims'.

"Not really. She... She was in a sorority in college. And she worked in the Peace Corps for a while," I recalled, rubbing my eyes.

"I'll have Garcia check it out," Morgan said.

My phone buzzed and I narrowly avoided an outward groan before checking it. Everything not related to the case was a chore. I just wanted to find the person who killed Eliza. But when I looked at the locked screen my breath turned solid in my lungs. Max was calling.

Without saying a word, I stepped out of the room, aware that all eyes were following me out. Then, steeling myself, I picked up.

"Hey, Max."

"Maya," he breathed shakily into the receiver, "I need your help. Can you come over?" That took me off guard.

"What's up?"

"I don't want to tell you over the phone."

"Why?"

"It's just- It's important." Fuck, it was Eliza. He found out. Did she have anyone? I couldn't remember if she was dating someone. Maybe Max was still her emergency contact. She was still mine. Jesus Christ, we had put each other down as a joke.

"Max-"

"Please, just come over." I pushed my tongue into the roof of my mouth as I weighed the merits of telling him I already knew. But I'd want to be there for him either way. We always were there for each other. Back in the day.

"Okay, I'll be there in an hour." I had no idea how I was going to get to his house, but I'd figure it out. I walked back into the room. Everyone watched me out of the corner of their eyes like I was a ticking bomb.

"I need to go home, take care of some things," I declared. Hotch nodded.

"What's the best way back?"

"Flying. You'll be home in an hour," Reid proposed.

"Okay. I'm going to catch a cab."

"I'll drive," Reid said quickly.

"It's fine, Reid."

"It's no problem," he pressed.

"Really, I'd rather take a cab. You guys have work to do," I said firmly. He looked like he wanted to argue but the look in my eyes was resolute. I tried to communicate that I wasn't mad at him for this morning, which felt years ago. I just needed to be alone.

"Okay," he said, "Text me when you get home." I nodded and left. 

Apparently, I was frazzled because it didn't occur to me until I was five minutes into my cab ride that all my stuff was at the hotel. Honestly, I hadn't thought to do anything except relay my destination to the cab driver as I climbed into the back seat, eyes on my phone, trying to find a flight. I debated for a moment on whether to retrieve my things. I even let my muscle memory find Reid's number on my phone, wondering if I should call him and ask him to grab my go-bag on the way home. Three clicks. I stared at it.

I turned the phone off instead. All the way off. It would only take five minutes to get my things. Plus, as I discovered when I went to shove my phone in my jacket pocket, I still didn't have my jacket. Which meant I was lacking my wallet and passport. And gun. Definitely worth the stop. My badge was clipped onto my belt, but I wasn't sure they'd let me on an airplane without a passport.

"Useless garment," I muttered to myself, searching for a place to put my phone. It would fall right out of the tiny cardigan pockets. And I was wearing a skirt, so no luck there. In my defense, it was supposed to be hot.

"What's that?" the taxi driver asked.

"Nothing, sorry," I told him, eventually giving up and shoving my phone in my bra, "I need to make a short stop before the airport." I gave him the address of the hotel.

"Sure thing, ma'am."

We were there a couple of minutes later. Fuck, I didn't even have my hotel room card. I really was a mess. Oh well, I thought to myself, stepping out of the car, I can always flash my badge and hopefully, they'll let me in. If not-

I'd barely stood up outside the car before I felt a hand covering my mouth. What the hell? I breathed in a familiar scent but by the time a recognized it as chloroform, it was too late to hold my breath. I was pushed back into the backseat while I weakly launched elbows and knees. I got in a few hits but soon he was kneeling on legs, holding my arms down, still pressing the chloroform into my mouth and nose.

Maybe it was time for a desk job, I thought hazily as I sunk into a heavy unconsciousness.


	31. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya awakens in a strange place.

paradise - the neighborhood

I awoke into dim light. A single naked lightbulb hung from the low rafters. There were no windows, just a single industrial looking door on the wall in front of me. I was tied to a chair. My hands were behind my back. A rope was holding them securely in place. My ankles too.  
I wondered how much time had passed. My clock was ticking, after all. After five days I'd be our unsub's fifth victim.

I estimated, based on absolutely no information that I had been unconscious for a couple of hours. A hundred and twenty hours of captivity until I was strangled by the homicidal maniac who had kidnapped me from in front of my hotel.

I was alone. Truly alone. My only hope was that the team would find me soon. A hundred and twenty hours. One-eighteen, actually, if my estimates where correct. That wasn't so bad, I mused. We'd solved cases in less time than that. I'd be out in no time. Easy peasy. In the meantime, all I had to do was not get killed.

It was weird. Time passed and I remained in an odd state of calm. Actually, I realized as I studied the walls, I was bored. Everywhere I looked was white. Corrugated metal on the walls that I could just barely see. Only the door, grey, broke the monotony. Five days was a long time to wait for death or freedom.

After a few hours of trying to guess where I was given my few clues, I fell back asleep. It was a restless sleep; it was cold in my prison. I drifted in and out. The last time I happened to open my eyes to check that my surroundings hadn't transformed, I saw a dark shape in the corner of the room. A man. I was so frightened I nearly overturned my chair. Bored, my ass. The unsub took a step toward me. Then another.

"Hello?" I asked. He was outside of the soft halo created by the lightbulb.

No response. Typical.

"Hello?" I tried again, "My name is Maya. You probably know that." He had my badge after all.

The man stayed quiet, but a strange thing happened. Something in my brain clicked. I didn't know what it was, but I couldn't practically feel it. My the cogs of my unconscious brain were whirling. Not like puzzle pieces. When you're doing a puzzle you can see what you're building, at least the tiny part you've put together. A tree. A house. It was more like a giant paint by numbers and my brain had found yellow.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Are you scared?" he asked.

"Do you want me to be?" Good job, Maya. Antagonize the unsub.

He took another step closer.

"I'm going to kill you," he growled. Well, what do you say to that?

Another step closer.

"What's your name?" I asked again.

"You know who I am," he sneered. It sounded like he was making his voice lower. Did I get kidnapped by a kid? Fucking hell.

"I do?"

"Don't play dumb."

"It comes naturally," I replied. He kept stalking closer.

"What was it like. When you saw I killed the last girl? You knew her, didn't you?"

"You motherfucker," I muttered.

"She was gone for five days. No one even reported her as a missing person," he waxed on.

Never had I wanted something as bad as I wanted to pummel that smug voice into these stupid white walls. I could almost feel my knuckles hitting his jaw. Let's see him fight without the elements of surprise and those that make up chloroform. What was chloroform, again? Chlorine. Carbon. Something else. Eliza would know.

I was rambling now, in my own head. I didn't want to listen to anything the unsub had say. Not that that stopped him.

"You want to kill me right now," he said.

Okay, that was across the line. I refused to have my feelings told to me by a serial killer.

"Not at all," I said cheerily, "I hated her."

"Funny. She's still your emergency contact." Oh, now it was on. That bastard. I was going to put him in jail for the rest of his miserable life if it was the last thing I ever did. In the background, my mental paint by numbers found another color.

"You sure know a lot about me," I said.

"I know a lot of things." He was in the light now, at the edge. His features cast long shadows on his face, but I could still clear see him. He was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt.

He had been right before, I did know him. But from what?

"Seems like it. What else do you know?" I adlib-ed. I just wanted to keep him talking. Everything he said made the picture a little clearer.

"I'll be back later," he said, ignoring my question. With that, he left the room through the grey door ahead of me. It looked heavy. Maybe we were in a warehouse. It was light outside, a line golden dawn or dusk showing when he slipped out. I guessed dawn. He was probably going to work. That meant it was my second day already. Damn, time flies when you're trapped in an ice-cold bunker.

He came back later with food and water. It must have been evening because the same yellow like shone behind him as he came in. He untied one of my hands so I could eat. Takeout. When I was done he blindfolded me and told me he was taking me to a bathroom. A chance at escape, I thought. But he kept my hands and ankles tied, gagged me. Instead of letting me walk, he picked me up and slung me over his shoulder like a rag doll.

That's rather undignified, I thought to myself. Oh well, at least I could feel the sun and the wind when he carried me outside.

The door opened and closed and there was no breeze outside, just a sudden and much-appreciated warmth. Something solid pushed uncomfortably into my chest and I bounced helplessly. What was that? It took me a second to figure it out, but when I did I nearly squeaked with delight. My phone. It was still in my bra. I'd completely forgot about it.

Please, please, don't fall out now. More doors opened and my hands were untied again. I was shoved into a room with the words "Don't try anything."

I pulled my blindfold down. I was alone. The bathroom had no windows and no lock. Not even a shower, just a toilet. No mirror. He was definitely outside the door. As quietly as I could I opened all the cabinets, searching for a weapon. They were all empty. Defeated, I used the bathroom and washed my hands, drying them on my pants. 

The phone. Don't forget the phone. It was far more important than a toothbrush to fashion into a shiv. I could just call.

"Idiot," I whispered to myself. I prayed as hard as I could manage that it still had battery. Click. Thirty-six percent.

"Hurry up," the man said. 

Fuck, I should have done all this before. By now, my lovely host wouldn't give me the time I needed to make a traceable call. Anxiously, I slid my phone behind the pipes under the sink and tried to look normal before I knocked on the door to be let out. What was another day? My rescue was assured.


	32. On the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In dreams come answers.

two weeks - FKA twigs

When I was I tried for what I assumed was hours to remember where I'd seen the unsub's face before. Brown hair. Pale skin. Dark eyes. He couldn't have been more than 5'6''. My brain flipped through faces like a magazine. How many times had I seen someone matching that description? Too many to count. The more I thought about it, though, the more I became convinced that wasn't his real voice. I must've heard it before.

The answer came to me in a dream.

Max, Eliza, and I were in my college dorm. It was the day before she graduated. A degree in chemistry with a focus on spectrometry or polymers or whatever it was. I never figured out exactly what she was studying, only that she was really good at it. We sat on the floor with soda cans and playing cards.

"Juliet says she's moving to L.A.," Max said. Juliet was a film student.

"She always says that," I laughed.

"I don't know, I think she might really do it this time," he replied and placed down a card. Queen of hearts.

"And you always say that," I shot back. Eliza laughed, a tinkling like wind chimes.

"I hope she does it," Eliza said.

"Why, so you can feel better about the fact that you're also leaving us?" I quipped and put down a card.

"Exactly."

"I can't believe you're graduating," Max said, "We only got you for two years. It's not fair."

"Plus, I have to find a new roommate," I interjected.

"You still have me. You'll always have me," she said. She put down a card with a deft motion of her long fingers. Eleven. I blinked twice. Two. Eliza cheered and took the pile of cards in the middle.

"I heard you've got a guy, Em," Eliza teased as she clumsily shuffled the deck. I heard the sound of birds.

"No, I don't!" I glared at Max. He shrugged and smirked.

"Mhmm," she drawled, "He seems nice."

"He's not mine." I picked up my beer.

"Don't worry, Em," Eliza said. She looked right into my eyes. "He'll save you."

Max set down an empty Solo cup and stood up.

"Anyone want another one?" he asked. I raised my hand. He walked toward a styrofoam cooler.

Eliza kept shuffling. Behind her, on the wall, was a big painting by numbers canvas. It was half-filled in. I was about to ask how long that had been there when there was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," I said.

I pulled open the door. A man with scraggly brown hair was standing outside holding a pizza box. He was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt.

"Sorry," he said in his normal voice, "The doorbell is kind of hard to find."

"There's no doorbell," I said. The soles of my feet were too heavy to lift. I glanced over my shoulder back at Max and Eliza. When I looked back the unsub was gone.


	33. Day Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya enacts her plan to escape.

99 - ginger taylor 

When I woke up I took a mental inventory of the information I had.

Day 1. That's when he took me. When I woke up it was probably the evening. Then I slept on and off through the night.

Day 2. The unsub came in the morning. Then in the evening, judging by light from outside I could see when he opened the door. The same yellow light, so far away but so comforting. He had brought me water and food.

The team must have known I was gone by then if they hadn't realized it before.

Day 3. That was today.

I knew where I'd seen the unsub before, but I didn't know who he was or what he wanted. Great. Clearly, he received immense satisfaction from seeing me helpless, bound, and shivering. He would always talk to me in curt sentences, trying to get me to admit fear. He hadn't hurt me yet, physically at least; he was saving it for the fifth and final night.

But that didn't matter. I wasn't the helpless maiden he held me for. I had my phone. Garcia could triangulate it and there would a SWAT team here in ten minutes. I'd never see the fifth night.

I had that assurance. Despite myself, however, I couldn't help but think about how scared Eliza must have been in my place. She was a sweetheart. She never deserved anything bad, yet a week ago she was in the same chair I sat in now. No one even knew she was gone. That's what he'd said. I should have known.

He was there soon after I woke up.

"Hey, Pizza Guy," I called when he stepped in. He flinched.

"I'm not a pizza guy," he replied darkly. I couldn't tell if I had thrown him by remembering where I saw him or if he was just too proud to accept his moniker.

"Okay, Guy Who Deliver Pizza," I corrected.

"Shut up," he growled. Jeez, enough with the growling already.

"Well, what am I supposed to call you?"

"Sir."

I laughed. Oops. Laughing at a sadistic narcissist was generally not a great idea. My point was proved when he walked up to me and wrapped his hand around my throat. My lungs were a ballon pinched off at the neck by his dirty hand. No air escaped nor entered for a moment until I realized that it was only shock freezing me. He wasn't pushing hard enough to suffocate me. That wasn't his M.O. It was just the exertion of power.

"I... have... a question," I eked out. He let go. I was sent into a coughing fit, almost more by the sudden influx of air than the momentary lack thereof.

"Spit it out, bitch." His hair looked dirty. Greasy.

"Why do you make your voice lower?"

"What?" I must have caught him off guard because his voice jumped up an octave. 

"Does it make you feel more masculine? Are you self-conscious or something?" I couldn't help myself. Something about sitting in an empty room alone for three days made me unable to bite my tongue.

He hit me. His fist collided with my cheekbone, which bloomed with pain that stung red hot. I just watched him. What a coward.

"I'll be back," he muttered, voice low again. I spit blood on the floor. 

He was back, as he promised. My veins were coursing with adrenaline. As long as my phone was still alive, so was my future. My food was the same as yesterday, but I was hardly in the mood to complain. This would be my last night in this dank, cold chamber of doom. I ate fast.

I was lugged once again into the warmth, feeling almost euphoric, a weird feeling to experience while slung over the shoulder of a murderer. I had a sense of hope that Eliza probably never had. 

He deposited me back on the floor outside of the bathroom, untied me, and shoved me inside just as he had the day before. Trying not to reveal my urgency, I stayed perfectly still until the door shut behind me. Then I rushed to the cabinet under the sink and felt for my phone amongst the rusted pipes. A gigantic cockroach skittered away and I pulled my hand back as if from a fire. In the process, I managed to hit my elbow against the side of the cabinet. I breathed in slowly, trying to keep perfectly quiet as a tingling sensation flooded my arm. Alright, there was the bad luck out of the way. I tossed up a quick prayer that the cockroach, which had slipped into apparent oblivion, was the last of my surprise company. Then, I delved once again between the pipes.

There it was. I slipped my fingers around my phone and pulled it out, feeling as though I was navigating between laser beams. 

Moment of truth. I clicked the button on. The screen shone on command. Fifteen percent. 

Reid. That's who I called. Not Garcia. Not 911. 

At least, that who I tried to call. I clicked the button to call and for a shining moment, my phone feigned a call before giving up. No bars.

For an FBI agent, I was getting stupider by the moment. They should revoke my badge, I thought. I wonder if they did that posthumously. I hadn't even contemplated the idea that they would be no service in this hellhole. Reid would be so disappointed. I stared at my phone, clicking "Call" over and over just to be rejected every time.

Duh. If I was connected to anything, Garcia would have traced my phone already. I'd be at home sipping hot chocolate instead of flinching at mammoth cockroaches.

"Hurry up," barked a now-familiar voice. Back went the phone. It would probably be dead by the time I was back.

As the unsub carried me back I was met with a second devastating realization. From the bathroom back to the main room where I was held, the man's footsteps fell on hard floor. There was never the crunch of a leaf or a twig. I could only hear the dull impact of a shoe on tile or hardwood floor. I was never outside.

That meant the warm sunlight I used to judge the time was just a light. All that shit about the different days I had tried to figure out in the morning could be wrong. I didn't know what time it was. I didn't know what day it was. Tomorrow could be my last.


	34. One Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya has a new plan and it's her last chance.

window - joji

After I was back in my chair, alone for a while I settled down. After all, there was nothing left to do but think logically. Going crazy wouldn't get me anywhere.

I was probably right about the number of days. Even without the light, it made sense that the unsub visited once a day. Plus, circadian rhythms and all that. So it was still day three.

If I was wrong I'd find out soon enough.

There was still something nagging me. My stupid paint by number was still missing colors. I had thought I'd get the easy way out with my accidentally-smuggled-in phone. I guess now I'll have to do some actual profiling, I figured.

I was the fifth girl. What did I have in common with the other victims?

Alison Price. The hairdresser and new lawyer.

Maya Reyes. The chef.

Jennifer Nguyen. The engaged intern.

Eliza Lavigne. Eliza.

"What I wouldn't give for an evidence board," I muttered aloud to myself. Ooh! Talking to myself! That was a great sign.

In the face of my pitiful lack of supplies, I tried my best to imagine the headshots of the girls, side by side. I scoured my brain for details. All I knew was their ages, names, jobs, and faces. Data retrieval was Reid's thing, not mine. This was hopeless.

Reid would be so much better at this than I was. I blinked and my mental board was replaced with his earnest face. It had been less than a hundred hours since I'd seen him, but it felt like weeks. So far away. In more ways than one. He'd have figured it out already if he were strapped to the same chair I was. That's why he was Sherlock and I was Watson.

"Fuck off," I told fake Reid. He didn't budge. I could almost hear his voice, imagine him saying, "Don't give up, Maya. Focus."

"Fuck off," I told him again. His foggy face dissipated, but the voice was still there whispering in my ear as I ran through the victims' files over and over.

"Focus, Maya. What do they have in common?"

It didn't click into place so much as it settled.

Alison Price. Was I kidding myself or did she sort of look like me? Same hair. Same nose. Our eyes were different shapes but the resemblance was undeniable.

Maya Reyes. Well, that was my name.

Jennifer Nguyen. I'd bet anything that she was the girl I had thought of when I'd first heard the name, the one from my hometown. 

Eliza Lavigne. My college friend. My friend. My emergency contact.

He'd shown up at my door. That wasn't pure chance, wasn't when he decided to take me. I was the plan all along.

Me. It was me. The paint by numbers was all filled in and the picture in front of me was my own face.

All those girls had been killed because of me. Their bodies flashed like slides in front of my mind's eye. Me.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe. My vision blurred.

"You're hyperventilating," Reid said calmly in my ear, "You need to breathe slowly."

"Fuck off!" I yelled, loud enough that I could hear the sound bounce back at me. It was enough to get me breathing at a normal pace again. Still, it was a few minutes before I could think.

Me. Alright. I could use that to my advantage. If I was going to die in this dank place, it wouldn't be without a fight.

One question still stuck in my mind. How did he know from where to abduct me? The answer to that uncertainty came much sooner. He had hacked my phone. That's how he knew when I was leaving; he had heard Max call me. That's how he'd shown up to deliver my pizza. When my phone spazzed out, that was probably him. For all I knew, maybe there was service in this area and he had just turned off my phone's ability to communicate.

What I needed now was a strategy. That was when being a member of the BAU came in handy. I drifted into another night of fitful sleep with the anticipation of enacting my plan in the morning. 

I didn't think I'd ever miss the sound of my alarm, but there was something creepy about waking up in silence. Also, the fact that I was strapped to a chair by a serial killer. That could have something to do with it. I let my neck hang to one side, then the other, trying to undo the damage that sleeping upright had caused.

Luckily, or unluckily, perhaps, my captor entered nearly as soon as I awoke. 

"You scared, whore?" He had settled on that name, as it seemed. Practically every third word out of the guy's mouth was "whore." 

"Of what?" 

"Of dying. Which you will. Soon." He lurched forward with the start of every sentence, a cheap attempt at intimidation. I didn't answer.

"It's a shame," I mused.

"What's a shame, whore?" Man, he was like a person pretending to be a serial killer, flipping in and out of character like a bad accent. Maybe he wasn't a true narcissist after all. He obviously had some self-esteem issues.

"Well, it's just that you went to all this trouble of taking me and no one knows," I replied.

"Everyone knows about me." I nodded, trying to look submissive.

"But not about me."

"You think I'm stupid? I know the police are looking for you."

"I know you're not stupid. After all, you kidnapped an FBI agent," I said, "But I doubt the police have made the connection. They're still trying to figure out how to connect the four girls you killed before me." Hopefully, flattery could make up for my mocking him earlier. How much praise of the execution of a crime canceled out calling someone a pizza delivery guy?

"They'll know when I dump your body like I did with the rest of them," he snarled.

"You're right. When it's all already over, I guess."

"When there's nothing they can do," he corrected, though he sounded more like he was trying to reassure himself than anything else. That was my cue.

"At least they won't have to worry. I know they'd be scared if they knew where I was now."

There was a long pause. I considered fluttering my eyelashes but thought it too transparent. I'd let him make the connection on his own. That's the only way it would work anyway.

"Why don't we let them know?" he sneered. There was the false bravado again.

"What?" I asked as dumbly as I could manage.

"I think it's time I paid a call to those investigators on your little team."

"You're going to call them? How will they know you have me?"

"Shut up. Be a good girl and I might let you say 'hi' one last time." Oh, thank god. That was easier than I thought it would be.

He said he'd be back later. My sudden burst of adrenaline at the thought of getting to talk to someone other than this unsub was not well-matched to the hours of waiting that ensued. Blank walls and an endless stream of anxious thought. I felt like I at least deserved a window to stare out like Rapunzel in her tower. At least that gave me plenty of time to practice and perfect what I was going to say. It had to be subtle, succinct. No problem. I could do subtle and succinct in my sleep. The BAU could spring me with a few well-worded clues. We'd done more with less.

I shivered. I was almost worried I'd get from pneumonia from the cold, but I wouldn't last long enough to die from it anyways. A brutal and painful death tomorrow awaited me if I didn't escape in time. The bruised and torn skin of my predecessors flashed again in my mind, but for the first time, I didn't feel guilty for not saving them. I just felt afraid. If this went wrong, I'd never see anyone I cared about ever again. Poor Max. He'd lose two friends in a week.

The door opened. It was sooner than I expected. The unsub stalked into my circle of light.

"Good morning," I said, for no reason at all. Did I think good manners would get him to go easy on me? Just another sign I was going crazy.

"Good morning, whore." The unsub- I could probably stop calling him "the unsub" by now. After all, he wasn't exactly unknown. I knew exactly who the killer was. The only thing I didn't know was his name. Or his occupation. Or if he had any family... Actually, you know what? I thought to myself, "Unsub" seems right.

"Time for you to tell your team you're about to die," he said. Oh, goody. What more could a girl ask for?

"First, it's time for a little trip," he added and withdrew something from a chest pocket of his flannel. I squinted. A nondescript pill.

"What's that?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. He smirked.

"What, you didn't think I'd let you talk to the police sober? And have you use all your secret codes?" 

"We don't have secret codes," I said, a reflex. Why didn't we have more secret codes?

"Open up," he instructed. Before I had any chance to react he wrenched my mouth open and dropped the pill down my throat. I nearly choked as he covered my mouth, waiting for me to swallow. His disgusting finger in my mouth. I could have bitten them hard, made him hurt just a fraction as much as he had hurt all other girls, hurt me. But instead, I swallowed obediently. His fingers rooted around in my mouth to make sure I hadn't cheeked the pill. Breathe, Maya, breathe. 

Satisfied, the unsub stepped back and crossed his arms, presumably to watch whatever devolution came next.

Fuck. I'd been exaggerating when I said I could do subtle and succinct in my sleep. I needed to be fully conscious. Not tripping. Now my only hope was that Garcia could use the sound of me drooling into the microphone to pinpoint my location. She could trace a call to a steel bunker, right? Or wherever the hell I was.

I could already feel my face getting heavier, though maybe that was just anticipation. The unsub watched me for a while. My tongue felt like a foreign object in my mouth. I tried to lift it to my palate but it flopped back down. I giggled.

The man pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and dialed a number, reading of the paper as he typed. Each beep echoed in my eyes. This. This was... Going to be great. I giggled again.

The man held the phone to his ear, said a few words, then walked over to me. 

"One call. Beg for your life, whore." He held the receiver to my ear.

"Maya?" said my favorite voice.

"Reid."


	35. Hotch, It's Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at the other side of the equation. Can they solve the case?

rocketman (it's going to be a long, long time) - elton john

Spencer paced. He had been pacing the D.C. police station for hours. And the day before. Ever since the team had found out that Maya hadn't caught a flight back home. Even JJ hadn't been able to make him stop. Hotch was particularly inclined to try; he was pretty sure if Reid sat still for more than a moment he'd implode.

This was one of the worst parts of the job: when they just didn't have enough information. They'd scoured everything. Photos, police reports, witness statements, every shred of physical and digital evidence there was to be found. Reid had figured out the link between the victims the day before, confirmed it through Garcia, but that didn't get them a lot. Or anything, really. There were still too many people that Maya interacted with on a regular or semi-regular basis that fit their basic profile. Plus, they couldn't rule out that the unsub was someone she had only met in passing. Maybe she didn't even remember seeing him. Garcia was supposed to be checking to see who could get access to information like Maya's childhood friends or college roommate. It was practically nothing to go on. Almost anyone with a computer and some time on their hands could find that kind of information. Even better? This was their last day to find her alive. The clock was ticking, ticking at an agonizingly quick pace.

So Reid paced. Occasionally, he'd halt mid-step and stare at some point in the distance, trying to piece together fragments that didn't fit. Then, after a moment, he'd regain his stride and continue his unending path crisscrossing the station floor.

An officer sipped coffee. A detective shuffled papers. A phone rang.

Reid's phone. It was out of his pocket and against his ear in a flash. His brain was barely registering the words "Unknown Caller" as he listened to the heavy breathing of the caller, still pacing.

"Reid," he said.

"Spencer Reid," echoed a low voice. Artificially low, Reid noted.

"Who is this?"

"I have Maya Davis." Reid froze.

"Hello?" said the man. Maya. Maya. Reid pulled his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

"Where is she?" he asked. He knew he wouldn't get an answer even before he said it, but he couldn't help but ask.

"I'll never tell."

"Reid," Emily said. She was standing not too far from him. She had seen him take the call. More importantly, though, she had seen him stop pacing. The two of them made eye contact and she saw the urgency in his eyes.

"Hotch, it's her!" Emily called. Hotch whipped around, saw Reid on the phone, and immediately the team broke into action. Within seconds they had Garcia on another line tracing the call.

"Two minutes. Don't bother tracing the call. And no codes," the unsub said.

"We don't have codes," Reid replied, knee jerk. There was no response. Muffled speech could be heard, then, new, lighter breathing.

"Maya?"

"Reid." For a brief moment, the invisible hands squeezing Reid's heart loosened their grip. Only a moment, though.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" he asked.

"My neck hurts." Her tone was exceptionally flippant, even for Maya.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

"Mmm," she hummed, "Drugged."

"You're drugged?" Reid translated.

"Mmm," was the only response. Drugged. Another layer of difficulty to this already impossible challenge.

"Do you know where you are? Can you tell us anything about the surroundings?"

"You remember that song we listened to? 'Mars ain't the type of place to raise your kids,'" she sang slowly.

"I remember." Shouldn't Garcia have found him by now? What was taking so long?

"It's me, you know," Maya whispered. She sounded conspiratory, the way a drunk person sounds conspiratory, that is.

"The song?"

"No, not the song. Everything, it's me. It's all me." The missing link, she meant. She was it. All the other victims led back to her.

"We know, Maya. Garcia found Jennifer Ngyuen from your elementary school."

"Don't miss me too much when I'm gone, Spencer. Promise?" she slurred.

"We're going to find you." She laughed as if he'd just told her he was auditioning for the circus. Not meanly or even disbelieving, just amused.

"We're going to get you out of there, Maya," he said.

"Just promise you'll be okay?" she breathed.

"Maya-"

"Please." 

"I promise. We're going to find him, alright?"

"And tell Hotch to smile every once in a while."

"Maya, can you-"

The line clicked off. She was gone. 

"Well, he wasn't bluffing when he said 'Don't bother tracing,'" Garcia said, her voice emanating from Morgan's phone, "I couldn't pinpoint their location."

"Did you get anything?" Morgan asked. Reid was sitting for the first time in many hours, his leg bouncing, his eyes unfocused.

"I managed to narrow it to a two-mile radius. But I have some more detective work I want to try. I'll let you know if any of it pans out." Reid appreciated what he was sure was an active effort on Garcia's part to get straight to the point.

"Thanks, sugar," Morgan said and ended the call.

"We need to-" Emily began before Reid cut her off.

"'Mars ain't the type of place to raise your kid,'" he said slowly.

"What's that?" Rossi asked. Reid didn't move, much less respond.

"Reid?" Hotch prompted.

"'Mars ain't the type of place to raise your kid.' That's what Maya said when I asked her where she was."

"But she was drugged. She couldn't focus on your questions," JJ said, looking around for confirmation. Morgan's eye was trained on Reid; he could tell the kid was on the verge of something.

"'In fact, it's cold as hell.' That's the next line of the song she was singing"---he was talking fast now, typical Reid overdrive---"Morgan, have Garcia check uninsulated warehouses, abandoned buildings, places that might be unusually cold. It might be nothing-"

This time it was Emily's turn to interrupt: "But it's something."


	36. Hold On

alewife - clairo

In a predictable turn of events, my not-so-self-assured unsub had lost his nerve and was now regretting his decision to let me on the phone. My drugged state had not produced the babbling, terrified, sobbing mess he had anticipated gaining pleasure from. In an equally predictable turn of events, he blamed me.

He didn't say as much, naturally. He'd never admit that self-doubt to me. So instead he decided to vent his frustration physically.

The first blow caught me in the left temple. I didn't have enough time to register pain before another fist landed lower on my face, hitting part of my lip. That one smarted faster. I was still experiencing the effects of whatever drug he had put me on, but that didn't do anything for the pain. I just felt disoriented and stuck inside my body.

Then came the kicking. It didn't hurt until a rogue kick caught a leg of the chair and toppled the entire thing, landing me on my side. All the air ran from my lungs with the gunshot start of the chair hitting concrete. The unsub kept kicking, hitting me in the ribs and shins. I tried to stay quiet and pressed my face into the ice-cold floor. Light started sweeping over me and then withdrawing like the ocean tide. He knocked into the light bulb. I hadn't realized it was far down. It made me nauseous, the way the light shined bright into my peripheral just to vanish again. Eventually, the man tired himself out and left without uprighting my chair.

I was alone again. The lightbulb has settled, illuminating me my immediate surrounding in its familiar dim wash.

It was evening. That was my best guess. I probably had less than twelve hours before my fifth and final day. I wished desperately that I could dislodge the images of the other girls from my brain. Despite all my big talk, I was petrified about what was to happen next. The punches and kicks were nothing. If the BAU couldn't find me, hell awaited.

I swear, I promise if I ever get out of here I'll never complain about having to wait again, I told myself. There was nothing as tortuous as waiting for a rescue mission to reach you when weren't even sure it was deployed. I fought to stay awake. The man hasn't fed me today or given me any water, a fact I realized when my stomach growled loudly. That was probably why the drug hit me so fast and so hard. It was making me lightheaded.

I drifted in and out of what could only generously be described as sleep, startling awake now and then.

I dreamed of ropes wrapping around my throat so tight I couldn't breathe.

I dreamed of the man stepping on my ribs and snapping them, pain puddling in my chest.I dreamed of Eliza. She was standing outside the throw of the light bulb, a silhouette facing the wall. I called out to her but she wouldn't turn around. Could she not hear me? Or would she just not turn around? Why would she, after all. Why would she forgive me for killing her? I kept calling, screaming her name. Finally, she started to twist toward me, but at that moment the same a pair of dirty hands launched out from behind me, covering my mouth and eyes.

I dreamed of Reid. Those were the good dreams, at least at first. They were just moments, maybe a minute here or there between nightmares. I'd feel his hand on mine, guiding my chess piece into the right place. Or he'd tangle his fingers in my hair the way he did sometimes when we kissed. The only trouble was when I jolted back into consciousness I was met with not only my grisly situation but the sharp pain of loss. Seconds ago Reid was so close I could taste his lips, then he was gone. Far, far away.

I wasn't sure when I had started crying, but at some point, I realized tears were somersaulting down my face. It was getting harder to stay awake for more than a few minutes. And, to top it all off, my head was killing me. Hah. Killing me.

Praying wasn't really my thing. I wondered listlessly if it was worth a shot.

"C'mon idiot, save me," I muttered instead, unsure of who I was directing my ill-mannered plea. I was sober by now, which was of absolutely no use to me. The government was right about drugs. They fucking sucked. Always wearing off at the most opportune times. If I survived this, I thought to myself, I should become a spokesperson for D.A.R.E. Was that even around anymore? I had a vague memory of Reid reciting statistics that indicated D.A.R.E. was unsuccessful in lowering rates of drug use and even increased them in some areas. Spencer.

Gray walls. Gray walls. That stupid light bulb never turned off. Fucking light bulbs. Could kidnap, beat, and kill four women but couldn't spring for a lamp? Fucking serial killers.

What would my funeral be like?

Closed casket. That was for sure. Out of nowhere, my brain recalled an evidence photo it had forgotten up to that point. It was a gaping hole in the back of Alison Price's neck, as if a metal spike had been lodged between two of her vertebrae. 

Jesus. 

"Save me. Please, cmon, save me," I said, increasingly urgent. My voice broke on the last words which sailed, unobstructed, into thin air in what I imagined to be a long arc ending underwhelmingly onto the floor.

If this was your last night on Earth, what would you do? No one ever acknowledges that too often there's nothing you can do. I was drug into sleep once more and dreamed of a bright light. So bright my eyes ached like they were sore. It was a white light, mostly, tinged with red. Heaven, I thought numbly. Or was it hell? I thought I'd get into heaven if there was such a thing. Didn't this count as fighting the good life? Maybe all I'd done was not enough. Maybe the lives I'd saved didn't outweigh all the ones I didn't. Alison Price. Maya Reyes. Jennifer Nguyen. Eliza. I'd committed plenty of sins beyond that, anyway. I hadn't been the perfect kid. Far from it, in fact. Even now I was a flawed adult. Wrath. Envy. Lust.

In too many movies to count, I had heard the words "go into the light" and now that concept was indescribably appealing. I didn't feel quite in control of my body but regardless I willed it to lean forward. A warm rush of air brushed my collarbones and I felt as though my consciousness, my soul, my whatever was floating inches above my solid body.

Into the light.

Away from here.


	37. Last Breath

carry me home - jorja smith

"Reid!" Derek Morgan yelled, but it was too late. Reid charged into battle alongside the night-clad SWAT team. Reid had been bouncing off the walls, which was a comical idiom for an utterly comic-less occasion. Morgan should have known, did know, really, there was no way the kid would be held back. Not when it came to Maya. So Morgan's call was half-hearted and immediately followed by him rushing to aid Spencer.

They had him in a second. The same brown hair, pale skin, and blank dark eyes as in the passport photo Garcia had dredged up from the tar pits of the internet. Daniel Long. Two SWAT guys pulled him out of an office in the Ledger Animal Processing Plant, empty since 1999. Morgan followed Long with his eyes as the officers hauled him, his feet dragging on the floor, to the police car out front. Then Morgan snapped back to attention.

He told himself he was looking for Maya, to help her as soon as possible in case she was hurt. At least, he told himself that in the hazy and distracted way one talks to themselves in moments when adrenaline sets the world at an uneasy angle. Another part of him, a demon perhaps, had a message for him too. The demon clamped an icy hand on his neck and whispered in his ear.

Find Maya before Reid sees her dead body.

Hotch was right beside him. Morgan wondered absently as he burst through door after door, peering around dusty machines, gun and flashlight crisscrossed by his rigid arms. He saw bare assembly lines, empty metal racks. The ceiling bore overlapping metal rods from which several silver contraptions hung like metal skeletons. Morgan didn't want to guess what those were originally for.

Reid saw them too. He didn't want to think of how they had been repurposed since the factory shut down. Ahead of him several members of the SWAT team tried to open another door. It stuck close, heavier and far more solid than the other doors, behind which they had found nothing. The door held a small bronze sign that resembled an office nameplate. MEAT LOCKER. Reid held his breath. SWAT tried again, unsuccessfully, and then a third time. The door burst open.

~~~~~

Spencer was inside before anyone else had blinked.

There she was. In an overturned chair on the cement floor on the meat locker. Her face was mostly obscured by greasy tendrils of her hair, but what he could see, and what he saw more of which every step closer, was horrible. Dried blood and bruises blooming like paint dropped in water. Her top shoulder curled toward its opposite in a position reminiscent of that of a fetus. Reid rushed to her though it felt like his movement were slow motion. He put a soft hand on her shoulder and used the other to brush the hair out of her face. Maya's eyes opened with the speed and deliberateness of taking a deep breath. Oh, thank God. Reid had never felt relief like this, so strong it was like a cold bucket being poured over him.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said. Her voice sounded exactly the same as usual. Why did he think it would feel unfamiliar? Was he expecting it to sound as distant as the voice that had sung to him on the phone?

"Did you get him?" Maya asked. He looked into her eye, trying to gauge whether or not she had any head trauma that may have affected her brain. Surprisingly, her pupils betrayed no sign of this. Reid had been expecting a concussion as soon as he saw the chair of its side. That could not have been a smooth ride down.

"Hotch is reading him his rights now," he said, responding to her question a beat late. She nodded and studied him with as much curiosity in her eyes as he had worry.

~~~~~

"You look like a mess," she told him. She attempted a smirk but her lip hurt like hell. It was going to take a lot of Chapstick to fix that.

Reid did look a little out of it. His hair was crazier than usual. The circles under his eyes were dark enough to give the zombies from the Walking Dead a run for their money. Scarier than that was the nervous energy he exuded, as if the worst of it was somehow still ahead of them.

"You really want to go there?" he teased with a small smile. She gave a weak laugh that turned into a cough and watched Reid stiffen at the sight.

"Anything broken?" he wanted to know.

"No, just bruised." Please don't let them put me on a stretcher, Maya thought. She couldn't stand the idea of being strapped down again. Reid gingerly felt her ribs and collar bone to make sure.

"Let's get out of here," he said resolutely.

"I don't think I can walk," she told him.

"That's okay. Don't worry." Then gently, softly, sweetly, he picked her up carried her out of the house and down the driveway into the waiting ambulance. She wrapped her arms around his neck. A police officer offered to lend a hand but Reid waved him off.

It was dark outside. They hit a wall of warm air like walking out of an airport on a humid day. Maya pressed my head against Reid's shoulder. In a moment of strange euphoria, she realized it was over. She had spent her last night is that hellish freezer, taken her last breath of its stale air. She was positively sprung from her prison. The ebullience soon faded as her fatigue resurfaced with a vengeance. She'd leave to joie de vivre for another day. Right now she just wanted to sleep.

"I want to go home," she mumbled into Reid's jacket.

That brought a wry smile from her savior.

"Soon." They crossed a large lawn and into the street where Reid set her down in the open back of an ambulance. She grabbed onto his arm like a child, beckoning for him to sit next to her. Dutifully, he complied. When you awake from such long a nightmare, Maya thought to herself, the real world feels like a dream. She had no concept of time, so it felt like the two of them sat there for hours. Eventually, a first responder tapped her shoulder.

"Miss," she said, "You need to lie down so we can assess the damage. We're going to get you to the hospital as soon as possible." Maya was still clinging to Reid's arm. She didn't mean to look so panicked when she glanced at Reid, but he saw it right away.

"I'll be right here the whole time," he said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."


	38. What I Want

don't worry - the 1975

I'd rather be anywhere than here.

That was my thought as she stared at fuzzy cartoons on the hospital's pitiful excuse for a television. Is this what kids watched nowadays? What was wrong with the cartoons I grew up with? A dagger of pain shot through my ribs and I immediately amended my hyperbole.

I'd rather be almost anywhere than here.

"Can you see the magic wand?" asked an animated fish on the TV monitor, which hung from the wall on the other side of my little hospital room. Almost everyone from the office had visited already, bringing food or flowers or cards, but none of them had thought to bring double-A batteries for the hospital remote, whose own batteries were dead as a doornail. Broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder was nothing in comparison to the grating voices of these cartoons.

"It's right behind you, fucking idiot," I told the fish, who had been looking for items in plain sight for at least ten minutes. I chucked my plastic lunch spoon at the screen. It bounced off harmlessly.

"I don't think it can hear you," said a voice from the doorway. I didn't need to turn to know who it was but I did anyway. The one visitor who hadn't yet made an appearance.

"Then it should stop asking me questions," I said. Reid chuckled.

"It's good to see you," he said.

"Ditto," I replied.

Silence.

He looked much better than when he had carried me into the ambulance last night. It was almost as if he had slept for the first time in five days. I probably looked roughly the same, the only difference being that some intern doctor had wiped the dried blood from my face. Well, except, he probably couldn't see me all that well last night. I was suddenly very self-conscious of my body and face, both of which were patterned blue and purple and both of which were now extremely well illuminated by the hospital lights. And I was sure the paisley-patterned hospital gown was doing nothing for my figure.

"Garcia couldn't locate him with the call, but she narrowed down the area significantly," Reid said, "Turned out that fact that we couldn't trace it was almost as helpful because we knew it had to be someone with an advanced understanding of computer technology and tracing programs." I didn't really want to hear any of this, but I couldn't think of anything to say. Were we really this awkward in the daylight?

"And we figured out that he had hacked your phone, which was also helpful in narrowing the suspect list," he continued, as if providing testimony for the benefit of a jury, "Initially, after we realized you were gone we detained Max Es-"

"Wait. You detained my friend?"

"It was standard procedure. He was the last person you talked to-"

"You detained my friend!" I was practically yelling, which was not exactly hospital etiquette, but oh well, sucks. I had just almost been murdered. I was doing whatever the hell I wanted for a while.

"We didn't know he was your friend. All we knew was that he had ties to you and Eliza," Reid said.

"He is my friend!"

"Well, I know that now. He was only at the station for a couple of hours. I told him you were back last night." He was biting back a smile, apparently enjoying the fact that I had enough energy to argue with him.

"Good."

"Anyway, it came down to the phone call. That's how we figured out it was a meat locker."

That's why it was so fucking cold. I shivered just thinking about it. Reid noticed and was about to say something when I cut him off.

"My phone," I remembered, "It's still at the..."

"They got it when they searched the place for evidence. Under the sink?" He sounded almost proud.

"Yup."

There was another beat of silence.

"Your singing helped too," he offered, another cast hoping to reel in a conversation. He ran a hand through his hair.

"My what?" A tug at the string.

"Your singing."

"What singing?"

"You don't remember?"

"I swear to God, do not tell me I sang." I wrassled with my memory for a scrap of understanding but I came up short. I didn't remember singing. Was he just messing with me? Then again, there was a lot I didn't remember.

"Well, you were pretty drugged up--"

"Oh my God. What did I sing?"

"That Elton John song." Elton John? I groaned loudly like a teenager embarrassed by their kooky parents in a teen movie. In the background, my despised cartoon fish chittered away.

"It wasn't that bad."

"Wow, glowing praise."

"Well, I mean--"

"Spencer, shut up and get me some jello." He laughed and the sound swelled my heart.

"Yes, ma'am." He turned to leave but quickly turned back. He had on a dark green sweater vest.

"I didn't mean what I said that day," he said. I knew immediately the day to which he was referring, that day in the kitchen when we had gotten as close to breaking up as was possible for two people who never dated.

"I was just scared something like this would happen and I thought it would be easier if-- But it wasn't. I just, I mean..." he stuttered. Hazel eyes were trained on mine so earnestly I thought I might melt like ice cream under a magnifying glass. With every word he said I felt as though I sensed ten words underneath it, suppressed. Easier if we weren't involved. Less dangerous if I didn't fall for you. But I had already fallen for him a hundred times.

I love you, I said in my head. I do. C'mon Spencer, read my mind.

He stepped closer hesitantly so that he was at my bedside. My hospital room was full of color and not just from the balloons and flowers. There was a painting on one of the walls, one that sort of reminded me of something one might see at a motel. It was a red sailboat on the smooth glaze of a blue lake. No more concrete walls for me. I was free. I was doing whatever the hell I wanted for a while. But I only wanted one thing.

"I don't want you to worry about anything while you're trying to recover," Reid promised, "I--"

"Kiss me," I said and in it, I heard the echo of every moment I'd wanted to say that but didn't, but couldn't.

He did.


	39. Epilogue

cleopatra - the lumineers

When Maya Davis returned to work, Morgan whooped loudly, his open hands framing his mouth like he was cheering at a football team. Rossi and Prentiss clapped and laughed as she walked toward the group where they were standing in the bullpen.

When Maya Davis returned to work, JJ grinned sweetly. Next to her Hotch, famously incredibly expressive, managed to shift from his trademark stern stare to a softer but still slightly stern stare.

When Maya Davis returned to work, Garcia had gotten a ginormous cake, fit for a wedding, that bore the frosted words "Welcome Home" in curly pink letters. Garcia herself was dressed rather like a cake and had confetti in her hair from the two hours she had spent decorating Maya's desk with streamers and glitter. Maya secretly hated to think how long it would be before her desk was rid of every last piece of sparkling confetti, but she appreciated Garcia's enthusiasm, knowing it was just the way she expressed her warm happiness. Plus, Penelope had saved Maya's life, so Maya would let her do just about anything she wanted.

When Maya Davis returned to work, later than she wanted to and earlier than her doctor would have liked, she did so with Reid's arm wrapped around her waist. Not for support. It was just there. Upon seeing this, Morgan and Prentiss looked knowingly at each other. In Prentiss' eyes was the slightest hint of disappointment; she had just lost a bet with Morgan regarding exactly when Maya and Reid would finally admit they were dating.

They had a bit of a celebration. Everyone had a slice of the ridiculously large cake Garcia had found, even Hotch. It was delicious.

When everyone had put away a decent portion of the cake and taken a turn sharing an amusing anecdote or recalling a shared memory, Maya thanked everyone. Especially Garcia, who was practically vibrating with excitement. What a homecoming. That's what it was, wasn't it? Coming home. Then the group made its way up the steps to the conference room to let JJ present the new case. The show goes on, Maya thought. Life continues. Almost as if nothing had changed since last year. Almost.

Except now, in that conference room, Reid's chair was a little closer to Maya's. Except now Reid let his gaze rest on her without worrying she would catch him looking with that soft look in his eyes. Except now when Maya zoned out during a discussion of the budget or Morgan's picks for who was going to the championships this year, her daydreams about Reid were reality by nightfall.

"I love you," Reid whispered in her ear each morning they woke up together and every night. They knew what it was worth.


End file.
